Reagan Review
by Inks Inc
Summary: Police Commissioner Frank Reagan is an influential, important and respected man. To him though, he's a family man first. His kids are his world, but the world they live in isn't a kind one. After losing Joe, he knows he cannot go down that road again. He is determined to protect his family at all costs, even from themselves. How hard can it be? Warning: Contains Spanking. COMPLETE
1. Undercover, Under Siege

Officer Jamie Reagan chewed his lip worriedly, frantically.

He was in trouble.

He was in over his rookie's head and he couldn't see a way out. The cold drink in his hand felt like it was searing through his very skin, and the trickles of sweat that were streaming down his back tickled him uncomfortably.

He watched on in carefully concealed apprehension as the target of his unauthorised, unknown, and as he now had to concede, _unwise_ undercover operation sat down at the table.

A haze of tobacco smoke hovered over the room, clinging to his clothes, rendering him mildly queasy.

A whimper was heard.

Jamie's stomach turned.

The star of tonight's spectacle sat bound to a chair at the table, a viscous trickle of blood running down the side of his head from his right temple. His eyes were bruised and badly swollen from the savage beating he had just endured, whilst Jamie had watched….just watched.

He was an informant, this bound man.

Therefore in mob terms, he was lesser than a direct son of Satan himself.

He was here to die.

Jamie didn't need anyone to tell him that. The looks of sheer, primal glee on the rest of the gathered mens' faces left no room for doubt.

His stomach did another turn.

How the hell did he get himself into this mess?

How the hell was he going to get the informant _out_ of this mess?

These _people_ thought he was a Benny Taylor, a connection of the DC Taylor gang.

He had convinced one of the guys in IT to remove any photos of him from any NYPD database.

These people had no idea there _was_ such a person as Jamie Reagan.

His sergeant hadn't the slightest of notions where he was. As far as he was concerned, Jamie was probably relaxing after the famous Reagan Sunday dinner.

His stomach did another turn.

He had been so desperate to prove himself, prove to his father that…that he had what it took, that he wasn't just a Harvard boy, that he was a _Reagan._

His father…

His stomach did another turn.

Police Commissioner Frank Reagan had seemed to accept his excuse of a nasty twenty four hour bug when he'd told him on the phone yesterday that he couldn't make dinner.

His dad thought he was at home, tucked up in bed with tissues and chicken soup.

Yet, here he was.

In an illegal bar with dangerous, sociopathic mobsters and a front row seat to his first execution.

His heart dropped when another vicious blow was landed on the informants bloodied face, sending spraying blood soaring across the table.

The jeers went up.

His stomach did another turn.

He had to do something. They were getting close to the final event.

The informant was lapsing into unconsciousness, and to the thugs around the table, that was just quite simply no fun.

He exhaled slowly, and forced himself think rationally.

His eyes flickered around the room, scanning for any other exit bar the main and heavily guarded one.

Nothing.

Gritting his teeth, he forced a bright and jeering smile as the guy on his left shot him a look as another blow was landed across the informants jaw.

The slow, almost absent smile that answered him assured the kid that this particular thug wasn't the sharpest scalpel in the torture kit.

The torture kit…that lay proudly in the middle of the table.

Jamie's breakfast threatened to make a reappearance as he ran eyes over that black, innocuous looking bag again.

The raucous laughter pierced his ear drums, as he forced himself to engage in the sickening joviality.

His own laughter sounded alien to him as he watched the puddle of blood on the table grow wider.

He was running out of time.

His leg twitched slightly, he felt his piece.

The cool metal calmed him slightly. His eyes flicked around the room again.

They narrowed on a peeling, rotted and thoroughly disused door in the corner of the room.

He'd missed it the first time; it practically melted into the shadows.

If his math was right, that door had to lead to the mouth of the alley that bordered this hellhole.

He felt his face curl up in the required unnatural and feral grin as the butt of his targets gun landed with a nauseating crash over the knuckles of the bound man.

He whimpered through a mouthful of blood.

Jamie could see he was fading, and fast.

If he was going to do something, it needed to be soon.

Real soon.

He eyed the door again.

He couldn't help it, he never could. The familiar question began to rattle around in his head; he one he hated asking but always found himself wrestling with.

What would Danny do?

He watched as if through a lens, the cocaine being carded out on the table.

The jeering was getting louder.

The clock was ticking.

He felt the smooth surface of his gun again as he flexed his leg surreptitiously. He could get to it.

His jaw clenched as his eyes roved over the door once more.

He suddenly knew what Danny would do.

Question was, was he, the youngest and level headed one capable of pulling off the brash, but effective plan of the oldest and hot headed one?

He wasn't sure, but, as he saw the pallor of the tortured man in front of him take another nose dive, he knew he had to try.

His eyes flicked to the door again.

There were five men between him and that door.

His eyes darted to the binds holding the borderline conscious man to his chair.

They were moderately complex.

He carefully moved his right leg.

The razor sharp flick knife, which had been his fathers, that was gifted to him on his graduation answered him.

He knew it would cut through the binds, what he didn't know…was whether the back of his skull wouldn't take a bullet before it could.

He rationally assessed his situation.

Five men, tight binds, and a decaying door.

He felt bile rise up in his throat.

Those were pretty bleak odds.

He had no time to dwell on his bleak prospects. It seemed as though the deranged group had had their fill of torturing their captive.

Jamie locked eyes with the target of the foolhardy operation that would be most likely be the cause of his very premature death.

The psychopathic killer grinned in his direction as he loaded the gun that would signal the end of the bleeding, and broken mans' life.

"Want to see how we do things in New York little Taylor?" he drawled, his cold voice raising the hairs on the back of Jamie's neck.

He looked into the steely blue eyes looking back at him.

He knew that the likelihood that these would be the eyes of the man that would kill him, he forced himself to plaster a manic lopsided grin on his face and raise his arm in an encouraging gesture.

"I'm always up for a little cultural development" he answered, amazed at how calm his voice came out.

The maniac on the other side of the table grinned straight back, his yellowed teeth bared in the feral gesture.

"Atta boy little Taylor, atta boy."

Jamie managed another grin, and felt his heart step up the beat as the man turned to his prisoner.

It was now or never.

He had probably two seconds at the very most, and the advantage of the surprise, to reach for his weapon, and…do whatever it took to get him and the informant out into that goddamned alley.

The frantic beating of his heart was now almost painful.

He took a deep breath.

The target was crooning to his victim, gently pushing locks of his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

Toying with him.

It was now. It was now or the man was dead.

Jamie lunged.

Within a millisecond he was under the table as he reached for his weapon in one smooth attempt.

He took a deep breath and prepared to resurface, but…suddenly found he could not.

 _Should_ not.

Above his head, all hell was breaking loose.

Chairs were scraping, glasses were smashing, men were shouting.

A deafening ban sounded.

Jamie froze.

Why hadn't they shot him?

They were scrambling, the whole gang, darting right and left.

Why hadn't they shot him?

An unmistakable gun shot rang out, a brief and stunned silence ensued before voices rang out straight after.

Jamie's frozen stance became instantly glacial.

He knew that voice, but…no, it made no sense.

He frantically scrubbed his shirt for blood.

Maybe he _had_ been shot, and was in shock.

The voice rang out again, louder this time, over the din of some kind of upheaval above his head.

There were more voices, a confused babble of tones.

He scrubbed his shirt again.

He felt no blood.

No blood, meant no shot. No shot, meant no shock. No shock, meant that he wasn't delusional.

His limbs began to loosen as a reliable flow of blood began to flow back through them.

The voice rang out again and…it sounded frantic, hysterical almost.

There was no mistaking it. The kid took a deep breath, and willed his muscles to cooperate with him. After a moment, his legs unfurled and his arms gained enough strength to hoist him up from his impromptu shelter.

Standing to his full height, the young man felt the recent return of his blood flow begin to drain away from his extremities with immediacy.

He opened his mouth, to speak the words he had spoken thousands of times.

He might as well have been learning Mandarin.

He swallowed, and tried again.

This time, his rasping voice succeeded and a stammering , stuttering resemblance of his voice began to float upwards into the air.

"Uhh…hey Danny"

He swallowed again, painfully.

"Hey Dad."

…..

TBC

…..

A/N: First Blue Bloods fic, so please let me know what you guys think!


	2. Blue Blues

Jamie sat uncomfortably in the back seat of Danny's car, as the two older Reagan men conversed in low tones outside.

They were cleaning up his mess. They had managed to get him out without any of the thugs being any the wiser, so concerned were they about scarpering themselves. He squirmed in his seat and felt the dull flush across his cheeks intensify, this was mortifying.

An ambulance was on scene, tending to the barely alive informant and the remaining gang members were handcuffed and sitting out of his direct line of vision, handcuffed, waiting for a police van to come and get them.

The Commissioner turned and shot his youngest a furious look, before turning back to Danny and issuing more instructions.

Jamie blanched.

He hadn't seen his father this angry in years.

Especially at _him._

Rightly or wrongly, he was the baby of the family, and rarely drew such ire.

He watched in consternation as a wailing police van roared onto the scene, with anxious looking cops instantly departing it. He gulped as his father took control of the situation, appraising the new arrivals of the situation, and evidently instructing the herding of the prisoners on board.

Danny arrived back and murmured to his father who nodded brusquely. Spinning on his heel, the oldest Reagan son stormed to his car and threw himself into the driver's seat.

If Jamie was uncomfortable alone, he was doubly uncomfortable with the addition of his seething sibling.

The hot headed Detective turned around and shot the quailing officer a ferocious glare.

"You've done it this time little brother" he growled, "You've _really_ gone and done it this time."

With that, he bit his lip, and turned around in his seat and stared angrily out of the windshield.

He had been firmly warned by his father not to antagonise the situation, and that he, and he alone would deal with Jamie.

There was an oppressive silence, as the younger Reagan couldn't exactly come with a convincing counter argument.

Even _with_ a Harvard Law degree.

After another five minutes of issuing instructions, the PC wrapped the disastrous operation up, and bidding a good night to his men, made his way to the car housing his oldest and youngest.

Sliding into the passenger seat, he deliberately kept his tone level and his words to the point.

"Danny, I need you to drop us off at the house, and then go home to Linda and the boys ok?"

Nodding stiffly, the younger man kicked the car into gear with a mumbled "you got it pop."

There was not another word spoken as the car raced through the streets of New York as darkness began to descend.

All too soon for Officer Reagan's liking it screeched to a halt outside the familiar red brick home.

Frank clapped a hand on Danny's shoulder and deftly exited the car, swiftly reaching the back seat passenger door.

Opening it, he jerked his head at his youngest.

"Out."

The kid took a deep breath and hesitantly obeyed.

Danny shot him one last look before he shut the door, it was still angry as hell, but there was something there that Jamie instantly recognised, having exchanged that look with his brother more times than either cared to admit throughout their lives.

Sympathy.

Frank Reagan swept up the garden path at a brisk gate, with his youngest trailing miserably in tow.

Throwing the front door open, he waited for Jamie to skirt past him.

To the kid's intense relief, the house was completely empty after dinner, save for Henry who was eying him from his usual chair in the corner.

Closing the door, Frank took a deep breath and fought to keep his tone steady.

Pointing up the stairs, he shot a stern look at the silent Jamie.

"Go to your room. Now."

Blushing, the young man nodded jerkily before taking the stairs, two at a time.

Their father had pretty much left their respective rooms in the same condition as they'd left them, which was basically a necessity given the frequency of which they all stayed over.

Pushing open the door to the familiar room, Jamie felt a small bout of calmness.

The scents of his childhood were in this room, and despite the current situation, they still bore their soothing qualities.

Throwing himself down on the bed, he stared blankly up at the ceiling.

He was so dead.

How could he have been so _moronic?_

A rookie cop, taking on an established gang, all on his lonesome?

He felt the flush cross over his face again at the mere thought of his asinine actions. That informant could have died under his very eyes, because he didn't have the experience or expertise to intervene appropriately. He could have sent the whole gang underground, only to resurface with an even deeper contempt for the law. He could have embarrassed the whole goddamned police department.

Groaning, he turned on his side and stared hopelessly out the window.

He knew none of the reasons that rattled through his mind were the real cause of his father's anger. The _real_ cause was that…he could have been killed. He could have been shot, at point blank range, and not one of the low life's that were in that bar would have batted a lid.

 _That's_ why Commissioner Reagan had been so angry he had been barely able to catch his breath.

Jamie felt a burning guilt begin to stir in him.

Joe's face sailed over his consciousness, and the burning intensified.

He had put his family through that fear again, for no reason other being too arrogant to know when to quit.

Gulping, he stared out the window at the shimmering darkness and wondered wearily how one Sunday could go so awfully, horribly wrong.

Downstairs, the situation was not much better.

Henry Reagan watched quietly as his son paced back and forth in agitation, trying valiantly to calm himself the hell down.

"You should have seen it pop…he was all alone in there. It was chaos. Absolute chaos."

The elder man watched in concern as the colour continued to drain from his son's face, whilst battling feelings of conflicting anger and staggering relief himself.

Eventually deciding to intervene, he stood and pressed a hand on Frank's shoulder, bringing the frantic pacing to a standstill.

"I know Francis…I know" he murmured gently, "Jamie screwed up. Big time, but…this is not Joe. This… is not… that. This is your kid… who made a mistake, but thankfully, didn't pay the ultimate price."

The calming influence his father always had on him, washed over the younger man, and he felt himself relax slightly.

"Thank God" he murmured, feeling his chest constrict with the mere possibility of losing the baby of the family.

Henry chuckled despite himself.

"I always said Jamie was a Danny in the making."

Frank glared.

"Don't even joke pop."

Chuckling some more, Henry took in the stance, and the breathing of his only son.

"You think you're calm enough to go and talk to him now?"

Frank's brow furrowed, as he appraised himself. He would never dream of having it out with one of his kids unless he was completely in control of his own emotions. As he tuned into his own senses, he found a healthy amount of manageable anger, and a seemingly never ending pool of relief.

"Yeah dad, I'm calm enough" he answered honestly, relieved by the level tone in his voice.

Having no hesitation in believing the man in front of him, Henry nodded slowly.

His own feelings now, were that of extreme sympathy.

For all his firmness, and his imposing figure, he knew his son was a complete soft touch at heart when it came to his kids.

Taking any of them in hand was not something Frank brushed off easily, it genuinely caused him pain.

He detested it, but he would never fail to do it.

Their jobs were too dangerous.

The elder of the two crossed over to the nearby dresser, and extracted the heavy, well worn hairbrush that resided there.

Passing it to his son wordlessly, who took it in great distaste, he squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"Not easy is it, when your kid is a perpetual rule breaker?"

Frank rolled his eyes at the teasing.

"You only had one to deal with one. Try three."

Henry laughed as the younger man began to make his way up the stairs.

"No thanks son, I'll pass."

Hearing this on the sixth step, Frank couldn't help but chuckle.

As he reached his youngest son's door, he hesitated, and chuckling couldn't have been further from his mind.

Rightly or wrongly, Jamie was the hardest of his kids to discipline.

The large age gap between his youngest and his siblings meant that Jamie hadn't been involved in the many escapades of the gang that was Joe, Danny and Erin. His naturally easy going demeanour also meant that he had rarely butted heads with his parents. All in all, Jamie was the proverbial "good" child.

Frank smiled slightly to himself as he hovered.

Of course, all his children were good. But, he had a pretty, and thankfully, small amount of experience in disciplining Jamie with more than a look and a scolding. Which was why what he was about to do was so damned difficult.

Squaring his shoulders, he summoned up the anger he had felt at the risk taking behaviour of the kid, and knocked on the door.

The quiet and morose "come in" served to un-square his shoulders.

Sighing, he gently pushed the door open. Seeing his son sprawled on his bed, he shut the door and strode across the room and sat down beside him as the kid straightened up, and sat up.

"Hey son" he murmured quietly, placing the hairbrush in the middle of the two, and groaning inwardly at the look of misery that shot across his youngest face at the sight of it.

"Hey dad" he eventually answered, squirming in his seat.

There was an almost companionable silence for a moment, before Frank cleared his throat.

"You want to tell me, just what on _earth_ you were thinking?

Jamie winced at the familiar tone that all the Reagan children were so accustomed to.

He fidgeted with his bed spread, and licked his lips nervously.

"I…uhh, well I guess I just thought that it would be a…a good way to establish myself, you know, landing a collar like that…uhh, that… gang."

Frank exhaled sharply and shook his head wearily, whilst Jamie blushed as the full force of his stupidity hit him again.

It sounded so much worse when said out loud.

"Does it still seem like a good idea now?"

The young man bit his lip and looked down.

"I guess not."

Evidently, this was the wrong answer.

"You _guess_?"

Jamie blanched at the sharp tone.

"No sir, it wasn't a good idea."

Frank exhaled again.

"Better."

The elder man took a deep breath.

"Jamie…why do you keep trying to prove yourself son?"

The quiet, gentle tone threw the younger man for a minute, as he struggled to answer, whilst his father waited patiently.

"I…I guess, you know…with Danny being as good as he is, and Joe as good as he was…and you being _you…_ I just wanted to make you proud of me…to prove that I should be a cop."

He clamped his mouth shut, and squirmed in his seat, feeling more and more embarrassed by him imbecilic behaviour.

Frank stared at his youngest for a moment.

The earnest and almost vulnerable explanation tugged on his heart, and he couldn't help it as he reached out and pulled the kid into his chest for a hug.

Speaking into his mop of dusty blond hair, he kept a strong arm around him.

"Son…I've been proud of you since the day your mother told me she was pregnant with you. I was proud of you before I even met you…there is _no_ need for you to try and _make_ me proud, you understand?"

His kid's hair tickled his chin as he nodded his head up and down in eventual agreement.

"You've _got_ to stop comparing yourself to Danny, or to me. We have years on the job son, you're just starting off. Every cop is a cop in their own way; you can't model yourself entirely on another officer. As your commissioner, I know you're going to be a fine cop, and then a fine detective and so on. As your father…you're my _son_ Jamie. Just as Danny is my son, and Erin my daughter, you're different, and I'm proud of you all, equally. You don't need to do anything else. Understand?"

He felt his chin being brushed by the kid's hair as it bobbed up and down again, but the rigid torso in his arms instantly melted, and the elder of the two was assured his words had hit home.

"Good man."

He released his youngest, and was relieved to see that he was no longer so stiff with guilt, but there was a significant amount evident in the blue eyes.

"I can't let this pass without some kind of punishment Jamie. I dealt with the official side of things; there will be no ramifications on the job. Which is against everything I stand for, you know that don't you?"

Jamie nodded slowly, the guilt bubbling away in his stomach.

"This is the one and only time I will do this for you. Just like there was only one time I did it for Danny, and only one time I did it for Joe. This is your only get out jail free card, and you've used it. If you _ever_ pull something like this again, you will face the full and strongest ramifications the department has to offer, am I clear?"

The gulping and nodding of his youngest let him know it was clear.

"You're not being punished as a police officer; you're being punished as my son, understood?"

Jamie blushed and chewed his lip.

"Yes dad."

Appraising the kid for a moment, Frank nodded. He scooted back on the bed, and looked at his son sternly.

"Stand up."

The young man blushed some more, but obediently dragged himself to his feet.

"Take down your jeans."

The heat in Jamie's face was now enough to fry a particularly over easy fried egg.

"Dad…can't I just…paint the garage or something?" he couldn't help but suddenly whine, his hands resting on the waistband of his jeans.

Closing his eyes wearily, Frank shook his head.

"Jeans down, now."

Knowing there was no hope, Jamie groaned but obediently if albeit slowly, unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to his knees.

Nodding approvingly, his father reached over and gently pulled the kid over his knee by his wrist.

He debated for a moment, before tugging his sons boxers down to meet his jeans, to the sounds of Jamie's sighing.

He generally would give the boy a bit of a warm up over his boxers, but the young man was way out of line this time.

He wrapped a firm arm around Jamie's waist, and lifted his right knee slightly.

"You understand why you're being punished Jamie?"

The morose nodding, and the muffled "yes dad" answered him, and he closed his eyes sadly.

He hated what he was about to do with a passion.

The first swat cracked around the room with a strong force, accompanied by the answering yelp from his youngest. A second swat quickly followed, and Frank was soon in full swing, meticulously spanking every inch of his sons upturned backside. His years on the force had given his hands a firm texture, and judging by the increasing amount of "oww's" and yelping coming from Jamie, he was putting them to very good use.

He didn't lecture, as he brought his hand down on the now rosy red backside, knowing that he'd said all he needed to say. Instead he wrapped his arm tighter around his son's waist as he began to squirm across his knee. He moved his hand down the soft and tender sit spots of the kids butt, and quickly lit a fire there. The yelping and whimpering instantly increased in response.

Groaning to himself, Frank forced himself to continue, drawing on the feelings of fear he had felt for his youngest son in the dangerous situation he'd been in.

The spanking continued in earnest for a another two minutes or so, before Jamie completely dispensed with his attempt at stoicism and allowed himself to begin crying across his father's knee. He cried away the guilt and remorse he felt for his stupidity as his dad's hand came down again and again.

Eventually, the last swat from Frank's hand fell and he reached over to scoop up the dreaded hairbrush that each of the Reagan children harboured a healthy hatred of.

He tightened his hold on his son, knowing that the squirming was going to take a sharp turn upwards.

Taking in a deep breath, he stiffened his resolve and took a firm grip of the heavy brush, before bringing it down sharply on Jamie's now scarlet backside.

The first yelp tore at his heart, and he closed his eyes miserably.

He brought the brush down again, and quickly settled back into a regular rhythm. His son's crying was beginning to dissipate into a quiet weeping, and he knew from experience and instinct, that his lesson had been nearly learnt.

When the youngest Reagan's torso went lip over his knee, he laid down two more stinging swats before throwing the brush down and instantly resting a hand on his son's head.

Using the other to rub the small of Jamie's back, he expertly calmed the kid down with gentle words and his reassuring presence.

He didn't attempt to dislodge the boy, allowing him to cry himself out over his knee until he had no more tears to cry.

Eventually, Jamie's breathing had returned to normal rhythm, and he made to push himself up. Frank quickly, but gently, tugged his sons boxers and jeans back into place, and waited for the young man to button them back up before reaching out and pulling him into his arms.

The younger man instantly melted, and rested his hot head against his father's chest, breathing in the familiar and calming scent.

"You ok son?" Frank asked quietly, anxiously.

Jamie sniffed slightly, before wriggling out of the embrace and looking up at his father seriously.

"Danny owes me twenty bucks" he croaked out, his voice hitched from his crying.

Frank blinked.

"Huh?"

The rueful grin that looked back at him nearly floored him with relief.

"We had a bet…that you were too old to tan us like you used to."

Frank snorted and shook his head in exasperation, reaching out to ruffle the kid's hair, before sobering again.

"How're you doing?"

Jamie instantly recognised the concern and answering immediately, and honestly.

"I'm fine dad…and… I'm sorry. I deserved that, and I won't do it again."

The smile that shone back at him was prideful.

Placing a hand on his sons shoulder, Frank looked at him seriously.

"Now Jamie…you lied to me. You told me you couldn't come to dinner, because you were ill. That was obviously not true, right?"

The kid blanched, and threw his hands back to cover his backside.

Frank couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Your backsides safe, just answer the question. Did you lie to me?"

Jamie shuffled, wincing as the rough fabric of his jeans brushed against his scorched butt.

"Yes dad" he eventually murmured.

Frank nodded encouragingly.

"You know how I feel about that, don't you?"

The young man nodded miserably.

"You don't lie to me Jamie Reagan. Ever. Not to mention the fact that you _can't_ lie to me. I knew there was something seriously up with you the minute you opened your mouth on that phone call, which by the way, is how we found you, courtesy of your cells GPS."

Jamie cursed that goddamned phone, as his father continued.

"You're confined to this house for two weeks, I don't care how old you are, you're a Reagan, and you don't lie to your family. You go to work, and home again. That's it, nowhere else…is that clear?"

The kid instinctively pouted sulkily, but under his father's intensifying glare and the outrageous heat in his backside, he forced himself to nod.

"Verbal question requires a verbal answer."

Biting back an exasperated sigh, much to Frank's amusement, Jamie opened his mouth.

"Yes dad, it's clear."

Feeling the full force of relief that the whole sorry incident was taken care of, and reassured that his son had learnt his lesson, Frank reached out and pulled him in for another hug.

"Love you, son" he murmured into his hair, the relief that the kid was still breathing still strong in his consciousness.

Jamie heard the relief in his dad's voice and closed his eyes in gratitude that he had a family like his, and murmured into his chest.

"Love you too dad."

Releasing the kid once more, Frank suddenly grinned devishly, and pointed at the door.

"I think your grandfather wants a word with you."

Jamie stared in horror, his blue eyes widening with apprehension.

"Oh come _on…"_

….

TBC

….

A/N: Please let me know what you guys think. This was super fun to write, and I'm thinking of doing a Danny/Frank storyline next.


	3. Reagan v Reagan

Frank's headache increased with every passing minute as the war brewing between his three children continued to rage at the dinner table. He arched an eyebrow at his father for help, who buried his head in the nearest platter of buttered potatoes.

The Commissioners moustache all but quivered in indignation at the lack of support, and as a particularly cheap shot from Danny sailed across the table and found its target in Erin, he cleared his throat in a pre cursor to his inevitable intervention.

"That's enough."

Danny's, Jamie's and Erin's heads swivelled towards their fathers in outrage, as Sean, Jack and Nicky choked back laughter at how easily their respective parents could be silenced by their grandpa.

Danny recovered first, as usual.

"Dad" he spluttered in outrage, "you're gonna let her sit there and talk to me like that?"

Erin barely suppressed an enraged shriek.

" _Me?"_ she yelled, "you're the _one_ who wouldn't know common courtesy if it danced on top of your thick head!"

Frank frowned fiercely, and opened his mouth to issue a rebuke, but was cut off by his youngest.

"She's right there Danny, you're not exactly known for your tact are you?"

As his oldest opened _his_ mouth to presumably shriek across the green beans, he slammed a hand down on the table.

A silence immediately fell, and all three looked down with a modicum of guilt.

"I _said_ that's _enough."_

Frank took a soothing breath, and calmed himself down, mindful of the fact that his grandkids were present.

"You three will _not_ speak to each other like that at this table, and you three can _start_ clearing this table. Now."

The three in question would each have dearly liked to argue, but recognised when they'd pushed the old man entirely too far. They settled for throwing each other molten hot gazes of scorn, as their father watched on silently.

There had been a growing and brewing row between his three for the last week or two, and damn it to hell if he knew what it was really about.

No one was talking.

He'd interrogated Jamie first, he'd always started with the youngest.

He'd piled on the pressure, but the kid had stood firm. Insisting everything was fine, and they were just on edge with their jobs. He'd piled on a little _more_ pressure, and the kid stood even firmer.

He'd resigned himself to failure on that count, and moved up the ladder to Erin.

She'd lawyered the hell out of him, and he'd left their conversation more confused and bewildered than when he had entered it.

He'd then naturally moved up to his eldest, Danny, and from the get go he wasn't expecting much luck. He was always the hardest to get a confession out of as a kid, and nothing much had changed as the years passed.

He had left that discussion, equally empty handed, and equally frustrated.

Snapping back to the present, he sighed as he could practically feel a wall of tension between his three, as they cleared off the table around them.

Knowing when a battle was temporarily lost, he threw an arm around each of his grandson's shoulders, and guided them into the living room to practice their presentation due at school the next day. Linda joined them, leaving Nicky at the table finishing up her water.

"Keep an eye on them for Nicky, call me if there's any trouble" he called over his shoulder, and was rewarded when his granddaughter spluttered into her glass with laugher, as her mother turned and shot him a death glare.

Time passed, and Linda had to leave for work and with her working the night shift, and Danny on call, the boys went up to bed in the room they shared at their grandfathers house.

After another small bout of bickering, Erin also left, taking a grinning Nicky with her. Kissing her on the cheek before she left, Frank looked down at his daughter and felt the overwhelming urge to make everything between her and her brothers ok again.

Sighing, he cupped her face with a gentle hand as Nicky ran out to the car.

"You're sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"

She ran her eyes over his face for a moment, before shaking her head.

"No dad" she murmured, shooting a furtive look over his shoulder at her two brothers who were watching her closely for signs of treason, "I'm good."

Nodding slowly, and filing away that misdirection, he walked her to her car.

Returning, he felt exasperation overwhelm him as he entered into another bout of raised voices and ridiculous squabbling.

"Your sons are _sleeping_ upstairs Daniel. I'd appreciate if the _two_ of you could act your age and _not_ wake them."

The sheepish look that crossed their faces melted his heart slightly, as he threw himself down in his familiar armchair.

"Boys…are _sure_ there's nothing you want to tell me? I can help you know, if you'd let me."

They exchanged furtive glances before shaking their heads in unison, one blond and one dark assuring him of a truth he knew to be false.

"We're fine dad" they echoed, and he felt another pang of weariness well up inside him.

Watching them out of the corner of his eye, as they sat as far away from each other as possible and continued to throw scathing glances at each other, he wished for the millionth time that Mary was still alive.

She was always so much better at getting to the bottom of things like this than he was.

Henry had long since left him to it, rolling his eyes at his grandkid's theatrics, and taking himself off to bed with relief.

An hour or so passed in relative silence as the two younger Reagan's watched the game, completely devoid of their usual banter based commentary, which made Frank even more uneasy with every goal scored.

Eventually, Danny's pager beeped and he sighed realising he had to go to work. Sending the relevant information to his new partner, he checked his holstered weapon as he so often did before the start of a tour. Checking the leather holder, he was dismayed to find a significantly fraying patch. Testing it's resilience with his hand, his eyes widened in misery when the whole thing disintegrated in his hands, his weapon gently falling to the carpeted floor with a thud.

Seeing this, Frank chuckled.

"Come on Danny, what do you expect? You've had that thing since your beat cop days."

His son turned a torturous gaze to him, holding the ripped holster in his hands.

Taking pity on him, the elder Reagan held up his hands in a placating gesture.

"Alright, alright. I have a spare one upstairs. Give me a second."

With that, he heaved himself out his chair and set up off the stairs racking his brains as to where he'd last seen his stash of holsters.

After about five minutes of rooting around his room, he sighed in consternation.

He _knew_ they were there somewhere. But _where?_

After a brainwave, he dragged a footrest over to his closet, and hoisted himself up to search the top shelf.

He was just about to reach out and grab a box, when suddenly raised voices and a following loud crash was heard wafting up from downstairs.

Startled, he leapt off the footrest and careered out of the room and down the stairs, his heart beating.

Had someone broken in.

Barrelling into the living room, his heart stopped, and his jaw dropped.

There, lying on the floor, was his youngest, with blood covered his face, gasping feebly for air.

Standing over him, covered in blood that was not his own, stood his oldest with his fists raised.

Jamie gave one last gurgle, and then….

There was silence.

…..

TBC

….


	4. Regrets and Mistakes

Frank's heart stopped momentarily as he stared at the lifeless form of his youngest son, covered in blood, lying perfectly still in the middle of his living room. Thoughts of Joe flooded his mind, as he forced his legs into action, willing them to carry them to the side of the prone figure.

Before he could use his training to assess the injuries afflicting the kid, the door opened and a breathless Linda careered back in.

"I forgot my damn badge, and this new _imbecile_ in security won't me in without it, can you-"

The rest of her words died in her throat as she gasped in horror, her hands shooting up to her mouth as she spied the figure of her brother in law sprawled on the ground, wet blood adorning his face.

Before she could even process the scene, her medical training kicked in and she rushed to his side.

Frank, having no doubt in her abilities, instantly stepped aside as she yanked a small torch from her scrubs pocket, but stayed close enough to touch his son.

"Jamie" she murmured gently, checking his pulse and feeling swooning relied when it registered strong and present, "Jamie can you hear me?"

No answer.

If ever there was a time that Commissioner Frank Reagan was going to pass out from fear, this was it. He barely remembered to breathe as he watched his daughter in law working on his baby.

"Jamie?" Linda echoed, her gentle hands fluttering over his head, searching for a wound, "I need you to answer me now buddy."

She accompanied this plea with a particularly firm pinch as she searched for broken bones.

This time, the kid stirred.

Sleepily opening his eyes as if waking from a particularly pleasant nap, he coughed slightly as he stared bemusedly up at the ceiling.

His father's face, laden with concern, loomed first in his groggy vision.

"Dad?" he muttered in confusion, "why are you so high up?"

Frank stared at Linda in alarm, but she flashed him a reassuring smile.

"He's just confused" she explained quietly, "his heart rate is steady, and there doesn't seem to be any _serious_ injury."

Before she could finish her explanation, Jamie broke her concentration by trying to sit up.

Two sets of gentle hands quickly caught him, and carefully pushed him back down.

"Stay where you are for the minute son" Frank instructed softly, resting his hand on the kid's soft hair.

He took a deep breath.

"Does he need to go to hospital Linda?" he asked urgently, knowing that his youngest detested such places, but being perfectly willing to drag him kicking and screaming should the need be present.

The nurse in her insisted she take another look at him, whipping out the stethoscope once more and checking his pupils for signs of responsiveness.

Both checks came back as perfectly normal.

"First aid kit Frank?"

The eldest Reagan swept from the room with a speed she quite frankly didn't know he was capable of, and within a moment he was back with the well stocked kit that resided in the kitchen.

Jamie however, was getting a bit tired of lying down and staring at the ceiling.

Plus his head throbbed and ached like hell.

Trying to sit up once more, he scowled when the same two sets of hands forced him gently back down.

"I'm fine" he protested, "its just a scratch…"

Frank merely increased his hold on the boy's shoulders, as Linda laced a cotton pad with a liberal amount of antiseptic lotion.

Wincing in anticipation of how much that was going to sting, Frank increased his hold a little more.

Linda quickly swiped the cotton pad over Jamie's face, removing a large bulk of the now drying blood from the kid's skin.

At first it seemed like he wasn't going to argue, but when the stinging made itself known, there was a change of plans.

"Oww" he whimpered as he pulled his head away from Linda's grasp, "stop…that hurts. Just let it heal itself."

Looking at Frank for help, she quickly laced another pad with lotion, and hoped for the best.

"Jamie…" he said in a warning tone, "let Linda help you. Then you can get up."

There was an answering scowl, but no more words of protest.

Linda worked diligently, swiping his face clean of blood, trying to locate the actual wound itself.

After three… _four,_ pads had become completely saturated with blood, there was no more bleeding and a long, thin gash was identified just about the young man's right eye, stretching all the way back into his hairline.

Frank grimaced.

No wonder there'd been so much blood.

"Does that need stitches?" he asked, his heart heavy.

She ran her gaze over it once more, and shook her head.

"No… just a gauze bandage and some cream. The dressing will need to be changed every couple of hours for the first few days. He's lucky…another two inches down, and we could have been talking about some serious eye damage… _besides_ the black eye he's going to have" she muttered thankfully, "what _happened_ Frank?"

Helping Jamie slowly to his feet, who paled at the change in balance, and wobbled in his arms, the oldest man unceremoniously bent and scooped the kid into his arms.

Over the sounds of his youngest's outraged protests that he could _walk_ thank you very much, Frank directed a death gaze towards his oldest who hadn't moved a muscle, or uttered a syllable since he'd entered the room.

"You'll have to ask your _husband_ " he growled, before turning on his heel and making his way upstairs to Jamie's room, with continued protests about mobility and embarrassment wafting up from his arms.

Linda gawped, as she turned on Danny, for the first time registering that he had blood on his hands.

Literally.

"Did you do this?" she whispered, "did you hurt your brother like that?"

He mouthed wordlessly at her, looking down at his hands as if they weren't his own.

His head felt heavy.

"Danny!"

His head jerked up and he looked at her as if he barely registered her presence.

"I didn't mean to" he croaked out, "Linda…I didn't mean to hurt him…"

With that, he threw himself down on the sofa, and dropped his head into his hands.

She stared in horrified amazement at her husband. The man she knew loved his little brother dearly.

How the hell could this have happened?

Everything had been reasonably calm when she left.

She swallowed down the bile in her throat, as her pager pinged.

Checking it reflexively she groaned at the frantic message of short staffing. Deciding that Jamie's need was greater than Danny's at that moment, she turned and hurried up the stairs.

Knocking gently on the door, she entered to find a _still_ protesting Jamie, sitting up in his bed with Frank perched on the side of it.

"How are you feeling Jamie?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm _fine"_ he implored, "honestly, there's no need for all this fussing."

But as he spoke, his body betrayed him.

A particularly vicious surge of pain ran its way along the beginnings of a ferocious scab, and he winced heavily despite himself. His soon to be blackened left eye throbbed in accompaniment.

Resisting the urge to squeeze him, Linda turned to Frank.

"Give him two Aspirin every couple of hours, and try and keep him warm. He shouldn't leave that bed for at least the rest of the night, and preferably tomorrow. He needs to rest that head of his. That bandage is good for about another three or four hours, then it needs to be changed ok?"

He nodded his instant understanding of the instructions and standing, he drew her into his arms.

"Thank you Linda."

She smiled up at him as he released her.

"Just take care of the patient" she teased gently, "I have to go back to work now, but you _call_ me if he vomits or _anything_ like that ok?"

"Of course" came the immediate assurance, and with that she turned on her heel and made her way carefully back down the stairs.

Looking up at her approach from the couch, Danny's pained gaze tore at her heart.

"Is he ok?"

Sighing, she nodded.

"Yeah Danny, he's ok. He's in pain, and it will get worse before it gets better. But he might not have been ok, he got lucky… _you_ got _lucky."_

He nodded slowly, guilt beginning to shut down his vocal chords once more.

"I have to go now" he barely registered her saying, "but we will _talk_ about this when I get home."

With a stiff peck to his cheek, she was gone, leaving Danny alone to his thoughts.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this guilty.

He'd never injured his brother like this before, ever.

Not even when Jamie broke his pride and joy toy aircraft.

He'd always teased and pestered the youngest Reagan, but always maintained a burning protective streak for him.

Much like the protective nature his father had for his youngest.

Danny's eyes dropped closed in misery as he remembered the look of shock and fear that had flitted across Frank's face upon seeing his assaulted son, lying in the middle of the room.

His eyes clenched further still as he recalled the murderously furious look that had been directed at him before his dad had taken his brother up to his room.

He didn't know why he didn't just leave now, run… bolt for it.

His father was surely going to kill him.

But he found…he just couldn't.

He couldn't make his toes move, never mind his legs.

He was relatively grateful that his grandfather slept like a log, at least he was spared the mini heart attack of seeing his youngest grandson bloodied by his eldest.

It seemed like hours passed, the minute hand of the clock on the wall spinning manically as he sat in the all consuming guilt based silence of the Reagan living room.

His breathing was still uneven, he just couldn't get a hold of his emotions.

Linda's voice careered through his mind.

 _Two inches lower and there could have been serious eye damage._

He flinched, recoiling away from his own actions as if he could somehow detach himself from them.

He could have potentially blinded his _own_ brother.

His _baby_ brother at that.

The fight ran through his mind, the frenzied scuffling, and the vicious insults.

His cheeks burned with shame.

Before he could process any more of his deplorable behaviour, a voice broke him from his self loathing reverie.

"Yes…I'd be ashamed to, if I were you…"

Looking up with a jolt, Danny watched with a jittery stance as his father walked slowly back into the room and dropped himself down in the armchair opposite him.

He took a deep breath, and fixed his son with a gaze that would melt the polar caps.

"Jamie… is still refusing to tell me what has been going between you three. For your sake, I hope I don't have to ask you more than once." He paused, and shot another furious glance across the room.

"What happened in my house tonight?"

The quiet tone, radiating with rage, was not one that Danny had heard in a long time and he winced instinctively.

"Dad, I-"

Frank held up a restraining hand, and looked at his son with an awful mixture of fury and raw disappointment.

"You will answer my direct questions, that's it. Now, what was the argument about?"

Danny squirmed in his seat, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I didn't mean to hurt him Dad, I swear, it-"

Frank held up a hand again.

"You can either tell me what the cause of this ridiculous argument between you, your sister and your brother right now. Or I will… _loosen_ your tongue for you, and _then_ you can tell me."

Danny gulped.

His father's tone was quiet, and controlled.

And anyone who really knew Frank Reagan knew that that meant he was seething.

Not seeing any way out of it, the oldest Reagan child resolved miserably to tell the truth.

"It's about…" he faltered, uncharacteristically lost for words.

"About?" prompted Frank sternly, willing himself to remain in control of his temper.

Danny looked up at him out of miserable eyes that any other time would have melted his heart, but with his youngest lying with a gash on his head upstairs, his eyes merely narrowed dangerously.

The younger man licked his lips nervously and opened his mouth.

"It's about…uhm…its about _you_."

…

TBC

…


	5. They're Memories Made

There was a silence in the Reagan household.

His son's words were simple, as characteristic of him, but Frank just couldn't get his head around them. Shaking his head wearily, he shot an incredulous look over his glasses at his eldest.

Why in the hell would all three of his kids be arguing about him?

A brief image of some hell hole retirement home sailed across his mind's eye, and his eyebrows narrowed.

"Are you three arguing about what age to ship me off to greener pastures?"

Danny stared, before positively gawking.

"Huh?"

Remaining silence, Frank conceded that even if Danny and Erin had come up with the idea, Jamie would have ratted them out long before now.

Sighing in frustration, he resisted the urge to reach out and cheerfully strangle his son.

Homicide was bad.

Especially, when committed by the Police Commissioner.

However justified.

"Then _what?_ You open your mouth right now and you _tell_ me what is going on between you and your brother and sister. Why are you arguing about _me?_ "

Squirming in his seat, Danny felt the heat rise in the back of his neck.

This was bad.

This was as bad as the time he'd taken his grandfathers car for a joy ride in the middle of the night and wound up across state lines with a furious state trooper on his tail.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he knew resistance was futile.

It was time to come clean.

Directing his gaze at his father's eye level as best he could, he took a deep breath.

"I guess…I need to own up to something…"

Frank closed his eyes.

There was even more to this than met the eye, and as usual, his oldest was in the thick of it.

"Go on then" he murmured quietly with a wave of his hand, bracing himself.

Nodding, Danny fidgeted with his shirt cuffs for a moment, casting around his mind for the words he needed.

"Ok…do you remember the fiasco with the drugged up cops, siphoning off evidence stores. In the tenth precinct, about a month ago?"

Frank managed to nod his head silently, completely taken aback by the direction the conversation was taking.

"Well…do you remember giving that press conference, where you were ambushed by that Times reporter, and you said…and you said that you would uhh…root out the tarnishing elements of the force with no hesitation or equivocation?"

Again, Frank achieved the required nodding and bobbing of his head, but his nonplussed feelings were growing by the minute.

Danny chewed his lip and felt a dull flush creep up on his cheeks, but he forced himself to continue.

"That whole episode was pretty bad…and there was the usual crap floating around the office that you…erm, that you value your public face more than your force."

He paused to take a breath.

"Usually I can take no notice you know? But then there was this visiting vice detective from a different borough looking into one of my cases from his side of things. He was a real smart ass, and he got under my skin from the get go, and I was dealing…but then…"

He paused to take another gulping of oxygen.

"Uhh…then we were on our way back from a fresh crime scene, and my usual partner was in court, so it was just the two of us. We were walking back to the car, and he makes a wise guy comment about how he hopes there were no drugs involved in the scene, in case we got jammed up by the uhh...dictator Commissioner."

Another deep breath was taken.

"But that it didn't matter if there was…because you _looked after_ your own, when and only when your _kids_ were involved. We…got into it. I warned him to shut his mouth, and that you never covered up for any of us."

The air in the room was again nearly monopolised by the eldest Reagan child.

"He just kept going though…he brought…brought Joe into it, then Jamie…Erin…sneering that none of them were cut out for law enforcement, and the only reason they were they are was because of golden handshakes organised by…you."

He looked down at the ground as the dull flush grew in strength.

"I lost it dad…I know I shouldn't have, and I know I was wearing a badge when it happened…but I… attacked him. He fought back, and we really got into it. The only thing that stopped us, was a call out over the radio he was carrying that our perp had been sighted."

Fidgeting with his hands, he continued.

"We got the job done…but then he went to my Sergeant about it. I got called on the carpet, and explained what happened. He understood to a degree, but still let me have it pretty good. Falkner, that's the visiting detective, was listening outside."

Rubbing a hand over his face, he leant back on the couch and sighed.

"Because I was busted up just as bad as him, my Sergeant gave me the choice of an official reprimand in my file, or a week's desk duty."

Another sigh was heard.

"I took the desk duty Dad. That's uhh….why you didn't hear anything about it."

"That was supposed to be the end of it…but then that _slimeball_ decided to drop by the DA's office on his way out of town, and barge into Erin's office to let her know what a "violent, sociopathic brother" she had."

Biting down the anger he still harboured for Falkner, Danny forced himself to continue.

"Erin completely _flipped_ , and harassed me until I told her the full story. Of course she _then_ filled Jamie straight in. Then the _two_ of them flipped out, losing it because I hit him. Because I could have disgraced to Commissioners Office, and fed the media hype about how your son gets off with a slap on the wrist, when he could have been suspended bla bla bla…"

He peeped a look at his father, and didn't know whether to be comforted or alarmed by the completely impassive expression looking back at him.

"So then _we_ got into it. I…I accused them of not giving a damn about you…about this family's name…they just kept on _harping_ about how there are better ways to solve conflict…with their _lawyer_ speak."

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"It just kept brewing…and I was getting angrier and angrier, and so were they. It felt like…like they were on their sanctimonious pedestal and like they thought I was just too stupid to get what they were saying."

Another hand was run through the now very distressed looking hair.

"Then tonight…Jamie and I got into it _again_ when you were upstairs. He was going on about how I was going to stay…stuck at detective because I could never use my head. I…and I just…snapped I guess. I started it Dad…"

He looked his father straight in the eye.

"I threw the first punch. I hit Jamie, he was just defending himself. And…I guess…the kid was right. So was Erin…I'm too much of a brawler to ever get anywhere…except from nearly blinding my own kid brother of course."

With that, his voice cracked slightly. Both from the long explanation he never wanted to have to give and the raw guilt that came flooding back with the memory of Jamie's lifeless and listless form.

Brought about by his own hands.

Dropping his head down in shame, he shook it dejectedly.

"I'm sorry Dad…I'm sorry I hurt him" he croaked out, "I'm so sorry."

When these words left him, Danny was completely incapable of any further speech, and merely dropped his head into his hands and sat rigidly in abject misery.

He couldn't look up at his father, afraid of the disgust he was sure would be on his face.

There was an unbroken silence in the room for many moments, as Frank who was admittedly blessed with a keen brain, struggled to process the onslaught of information that had just been thrust at him.

It all made sense now.

The snipping and sniping as he recalled it, _had_ been a case of two on one.

Jamie and Erin united in disapproval of their brother's action, and their brother reading this as tantamount to treason of the family name.

He sighed quietly, tension radiating from him.

His emotions were difficult to decipher.

He was still labouring under the relief that his youngest was going to be fine after the scare he'd had, he was shocked at the information he'd just received, and torn between feeling angry and proud with both the son in front of him, the son upstairs and the daughter across town.

This whole sorry mess could have been easily avoided if they'd just told him from the off.

His eyes narrowed as his thoughts shifted to Danny's Sergeant.

They would be having…words.

He should have been notified.

His thoughts suddenly came to a standstill, as his gaze drifted over his eldest child.

The misery and remorse that surged from him, tugged on his heartstrings despite himself. His eldest always had been, and always would be, a hothead.

Just like him.

His paternal instincts overriding his own mulling thoughts, he cleared his throat.

"Come here, Danny" he instructed quietly, his voice calm, but firm.

The younger man slowly dragged his head up out of his hands and looked over hesitantly, with a raised brow.

"Come here" Frank repeated simply, but allowing a gentler note to colour his tone.

Standing slowly, Danny took a deep breath and walked across the room, grimacing when his father also stood.

Reaching the designated spot, right in front of the older man, he looked up nervously, and fought the urge to bolt from the house.

There was a standoff of sorts, as father and son gazed at each other silently, whilst the son part of the equation was battling a severe case of fight or flight.

So when the warm hands came around him, and pulled him into the broad chest, Danny could do nothing but comply, such was his shock.

As he breathed in the familiar scent of his father, and felt the familiar calm encase him as he was held tightly, his heartbeat began to slow.

He began to calm down.

Finally.

Frank, who knew Danny to be the least comfortable of his kids with tactile displays of affection, held his eldest son to him for as long as he dared.

Releasing him when he sensed his time was up, he kept a loose hand rested on his shoulder.

"Thank you for telling me the truth son."

Not knowing what to say to that, Danny simply nodded, and allowed himself to be guided into a sitting position beside his old man.

Reaching out and laying a warm hand on his boy's knee, Frank sighed.

"Son…you know how I feel about you using your fists instead of your brain. You are every bit as competent and capable as Jamie and Erin in doing so. That being said, you did what you did because you felt your family was being attacked. For that, and that _alone,_ I'm proud."

He took a deep breath of his own.

"I understand my position makes things difficult for you all, and I understand that most of the time you manage to turn the other cheek to the gossip. I also understand that everyone has their limits, so as for the altercation…with that detective….I'm prepared to let the punishment from your Sergeant stand."

He took another deep breath, making a mental note to not forget to chew out said Sergeant.

"That being said, I am _very_ disappointed that _you_ didn't tell me what happened. All of this could have been avoided if you had, do you see that?"

Danny flushed, and nodded his head.

"Yes Dad" he murmured shamefacedly, cursing his asinine conflict with his siblings another jot.

Frank nodded his slow approval, before continuing.

"That _ever_ happens again, and it won't be desk duty we're talking about, is that clear?"

Biting his lip, Danny jerked his head again.

Rubbing a hand across his face, Frank sighed yet again.

"I will be speaking to Jamie and Erin about their role in this as well, ok?"

This time it wasn't a nod, but a frantic shaking of his son's head.

"No Dad, come on…it's ok. They were right, I shouldn't have-"

Frank held up a hand.

"The question of what you should and shouldn't have done, is a matter that should have been between you and I, not you and them. They will be hearing about it, end of discussion."

Knowing better than to argue a lost cause Danny remained silent in the wake of that pronouncement.

Satisfied, the elder man took a deep breath.

"So, like I said…insofar as the fight itself is concerned, that matter has been dealt with…and your brother and sister will also be dealt with…clear?"

Danny once again nodded his head slowly.

Groaning inwardly, Frank came to his decision.

A decision he detested, but a decision he would never be remiss to make.

His kid's safety came first, even if they hated him for it.

"As for tonight…as for you causing your brother some pretty _appreciable_ injury…that has _not_ been dealt with."

His eldest looked sideways with an unreadable expression at his words.

There was a brief silence, as each man struggled to deal with their own internal emotions and conflicts that swam inside them in the wake of the turbulent night. Danny, both grateful and defeated that his on call summons had been called off as a false alarm some time earlier.

Forcing himself to lift a hand, and to point in the direction of the basement, Frank willed his mouth to cooperate with his brain.

He hated the words he was about to say, as much as he'd hated saying them in this very room many years ago.

To the same recipient.

Drawing a deep breath, he opened his mouth.

"Go and get the belt son."

There was a stark and clear silence, so pressing it was almost tangible.

Danny's mouth fell open, his heart rate soared, and he looked at his father with a lost puppy expression that tore right through the elder mans resolve.

"Dad" the younger man eventually mumbled in astonishment, "you can't be serious, I-"

Frank held up a commanding hand, and pointed once more to the direction of the basement.

"Go and get the belt, _now."_

…

TBC

…


	6. Who Would Have Thought

A resounding silence continued to hang over the room as Reagan Junior and Reagan Senior stared at each other wordlessly, albeit with one mind spinning more than the other. When the sound of his own breathing became too loud to bear, Danny chose to break the silence.

"Dad…I get that you're mad…but you must be having a laugh here?"

Frank sighed, and shook his head.

"You think this is something I _want_ to do, Danny?"

There was no witty response to this, so his eldest merely resumed his silent gaping. He scrubbed a hand through his short bristly hair, and tried to reclaim some semblance of normality.

The elder man seized his opportunity.

"I know it's been a while since I've had to do this, but…you're still my son. You're still my son, who, under my roof, _assaulted_ my other son. Your little brother. You think that I can just give you a lecture about it and then we just carry on as normal?"

He took a pause, and reluctantly went for the kill shot.

"You've spent damn well long enough on the job to know how a simple knock can have devastating consequences. You know damn well that Jamie was _unconscious_ for a brief moment as a direct consequence of your actions."

Another pause.

"Whatever the provocation, he's still your youngest brother. You're supposed to look out for him Danny, not knock him down."

Another pause.

"What if he hadn't gone down? You know your temper, you know his. This could have all gotten even uglier, damn fast. What if you _had_ blinded him? You know how much he loves being a cop; you know what he sacrificed to _be_ one. You could have taken that all away from him son, at the very start of his career. "

A final pause.

"You know better than that. I _taught_ you better than that, and you're damn sure a better man than that."

With that, he snapped his mouth shut and reclaimed his earlier bout of silence, watching his son closely out of the corner of his eye.

He could see the kid was struggling with the consequences of his actions, but he wasn't about to force him to accept them. Danny could walk out that door now, and he wouldn't pull him back. It had to be his choice, his acceptance. Otherwise, his guilt would remain and the whole exercise would be pointless.

Frank had never, ever punished one of his kids for the sake of it, and he wasn't about to start now. Either they were going to learn a lesson from it, or it wasn't going to happen.

So he waited.

Silence once again descended over the comfortable room.

Danny was continuing to wrestle with the inner battle rattling around his own mind.

On the one hand, he felt guilty as hell. He loved Jamie fiercely, and the fact that he could have caused him permanent and serious injury made him feel sick. On the other hand, it had been a good two years since he'd felt his father's…displeasure, at his antics.

And even _then_ Frank hadn't used the belt, but had issued dire warnings that next time he screwed up badly enough, it would make an appearance.

He _had_ kinda assumed he was _done_ with that.

Dropping his head into his hands, he sighed.

The answer to his dilemma was obvious, even if it was damn unpleasant.

Dragging his head back up, he shot a look at his father and barely suppressed a snort. The man wore a completely serene expression of calm on his face.

Why couldn't he just be like that?

Calm.

It would save him a whole load of bother.

Clearing his throat, he reaffirmed his decision in his mind and committed to it.

"Belt?"

Frank nodded sadly, but inside he was filling with pride. He knew his son would make the right decision, given the time to do so.

"Afraid so son…afraid so."

Nodding silently, Danny slipped off the couch without a further word and made his way to, and down into the basement. He took solace in the fact that the Reagan house was so big, and the bedrooms of the current occupants were far away from the living room, with heavy sleepers housed in them.

At least no one would hear.

He snorted.

Small mercies.

Weaving his way easily through an assortment of hanging bikes, Henry's mismatch of uncompleted projects and childhood memories, he eventually stopped short.

There on the old dresser that had been Erin's before she decided it was heinous, rested the much detested thick leather belt. Reaching out reluctantly, he scooped it up.

He had been the most frequent Reagan child to encounter the particularly dreaded belt, and as far as he knew, Erin never had.

He rolled his eyes.

Favouritism.

Joe and Jamie had only angered their father enough to experience the strap in his hands once in their respective life times.

 _Him_ on the other hand…was much more accustomed to its sting.

Groaning, he spun on his heel and resolved to get what he had coming over and done with.

Within three seconds, he had cleared the stairs and was striding back into the warmth of the familiar living room.

Frank stood reluctantly upon the return of his son, and wondered briefly where the hell he was going to get the resolve to do what he knew he needed to do.

Taking the proffered belt with a stab of sadness, and feeling like a monster, he pointed quietly to the arm rest of the three seater sofa.

"Come on Danny; let's get this over and done with."

His eldest child complied without further protest, and quickly slipped over the arm of the sofa as directed.

A brief moment passed, and he was assured that he could do this.

It would all be over in a few minutes, his father was never abusive or harsh. He would know when enough was enough.

He took a deep breath as he heard the belt double over in his dad's hands, and braced himself.

By closing his eyes.

…and that was his biggest mistake.

A hazy image instantly swam in his mind's eye, a suppressed and ignored memory of some years ago. A fellow Marine's whimpering could be heard in his ears, distant though, like the sound of the sea from the most separated spit of sand.

 _It had been a disastrous mission._

 _Under an equally disastrous seargeant._

A sergeant that had long since been dishonourably discharged.

Corporal punishment in the Marine's was hardly a secret within a certain age group, but it was supposed to be a quick correction where absolutely necessary.

That sergeant had apparently never gotten that memo though.

 _His eyes screwed up with repressed pain as he remembered the savage beating he'd endured, along with his fellow soldier, at the hands of that sergeant._

 _They had been totally out of line, but so was their punishment._

The eyes screwed up even tighter.

 _How_ had he pushed this so far out of his mind that he was only dredging through it now?

The eyes were now clenched so tight together it was painful.

This wasn't that…he wasn't _him…_

His breathing became slightly erratic, and unbeknownst to him, a faint whimper escaped his lips as he fought futilely to remain calm.

He couldn't.

His mind forced him back to that tent, with that bellowing sergeant, with his trembling friend by his side.

 _His mind viciously coerced him into remembering how… he had snapped._

 _How he had eventually shoved that piece of filth that didn't deserve a US Marine's uniform, away from his fellow soldier. He remembered without equivocation how he had scuffled on the dirty, sandy floor of that tent to keep that sergeant down and away._

 _Another whimper escaped him as he remembered the distraught stance of his friend._

So lost was he to thoughts that encased him, embroiled him, held him tightly in their vindictive grasp that he didn't immediately register gentle hands pulling him upwards.

He didn't immediately register the oddly distant echoing of "Danny… _Danny?"_

It was only when he was pulled into a warm embrace that jarred oddly with his regressive thoughts that he realised truly where he was.

Home.

Safe, at home.

A shaky breath was exhaled, as he shook his head that was buried into his father's chest, trying to regain control.

He had had flashbacks before, sure he had. But never in front of anyone, not even Linda…he felt his cheeks heat up, a wave of embarrassment flooding over him.

What had he said? Why had his father lifted him from the sofa?

Eventually squirming out of the gentle embrace, he looked up at his father and plastered a falsely confident smile on his face.

"Guess something was gone off in that dinner huh?" he joked feebly, "sorry about that…I'll just… he eyed the sofa with a quickening heartbeat…"I'll just go back…"

He stepped in that direction to do just that whilst feeling another bout of mounting panic, before being instantly, but carefully, pulled back.

"Danny" Frank all but whispered, "what…was that son? What were you remembering?"

The shocked look that flashed up at him would have made him chuckle on another day, but this time his lips didn't even twitch.

"I served too son, remember?" he explained gently, knowing damn well what a flashback looked like.

Gulping at this, Danny nodded slowly.

"It's nothing Dad" he mumbled a little sheepishly, "can we just get this over and done with?"

Frank shook his head immediately.

"The hell we can kid, not until you tell me what's going on with you?"

He had thrown the belt out of his hands, and his son's eyes flickered towards it.

A horrible dawning of comprehension was working its way across the NY PC's face.

He took a deep breath.

Placing a hand on either of his son's shoulders, he looked him squarely in the eye.

"Did something happen on a tour…with a belt Danny?" he asked quietly, fearing the answer he was now sure was going to come tumbling out of his eldest's mouth.

Silence was once again king in the Reagan household, as both men stood and stared silently.

Eventually coming to the correct conclusion that resistance was futile, Danny reluctantly cleared his throat.

Looking up into the anxious eyes of his father, he felt a stab of foolishness.

How could he have ever equated the man in front of him, brimming with concern…with that…animal?

The logical part of him knew that it wasn't his fault, whilst the emotional part of him recoiled at the comparison.

He took a deep breath, and began talking.

Explaining.

For five minutes the room was filled with his deep voice, working through memories and emotions he never wanted to have to deal with again.

But…as he spoke, he was surprised…amazed even, to find the knot in his chest loosen.

It felt…well, it felt _good_ to explain.

To someone who had been through the service, someone who knew him…someone who cared for him.

Frank's eyes narrowed and dilated with a force as his son's voice rattled through his brain, a sick burning pool of anger forming in his stomach.

His hands twitched with the subconscious desire to rip the head of the shoulders of the man who had hurt his son.

When Danny's voice tapered off, all explanations complete, he felt light headed with anger.

"What…is his name?" he eventually asked with a quiet burning in his voice.

Danny looked at him anxiously. He knew his father didn't want to have a drink with the man he had just described.

"He's dead Dad…drank himself to death a few years back. Just…just forget it."

The nostrils flared, and the anger subsided slightly.

As un-catholic as it _was,_ he was…glad the former Marine was dead.

Forcing himself to calm down, he gently squeezed Danny's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry you went through that son."

The younger man jerked his head up and down, and Frank knew that the kid had been as talkative about that episode in his life as he could be, and he had to drop it.

For now, at least.

Filing the information away in the back of his mind, and tucking his son under the chin gently, he sighed.

"You'll talk to me… if you need to?"

Danny smiled slightly, and nodded his head.

"Sure Dad…you know me, I love to talk."

Rolling his eyes at the levity, he was interrupted in his exasperation by his eldest's voice, and…his movements.

Striding over the couch, Danny reclaimed the belt, and held it out to his father.

"Can…can we just get this over with now?"

Staring down at the belt in his hands that he had accepted automatically, Frank felt another tidal wave of fury at this unknown sergeant.

The leather seemed to grow heavier in his hands, as he glanced down at it and back at his son.

Suddenly moving, he walked straight past Danny, and over to the open, and blazing fire.

Throwing the belt into it without a seconds thought, he turned back the see the gaping expression of his eldest looking back at him.

Landing himself right back in front of his son, Frank looked down at him with a sombre expression.

"Danny…I will _never_ roast your butt with a belt, ever again. Not after that, no way, no how. I promise you that. "

The gaping merely continued, as the younger Reagan stared at the now aflame belt with shock etched on his face.

"But…" he spluttered, "but…what about what I did? To Jamie?"

His answer was non verbal.

Gently grasping his oldest by the arm, Frank guided him to the couch with an ease. Knowing that this wasn't going to go down well, he quickly sat down, transferring his grasp from the kids arm to his wrist.

Seeing the protests forming in his son's mind, he acted quickly, and within a blink of an eye he had pulled Danny over his knee deftly.

A firm arm was wrapped around his waist before he could utter an outraged syllable.

"I know you hate this, and trust me, I hate this too. But…we are where we are because of your actions, so if a little embarrassment is what it takes to give you pause to reconsider next time, then so be it."

With that, he laid down the first of what would be many, many swats across his son's upturned backside, easily holding the kid in place despite both his physical and verbal protests.

Laying down the second stinging swat over the sounds of "I'm not the _kid…_ let me up…damn it Dad, let me up", he quickly found himself settling into a meticulous rhythm.

Within a minute or so, the only sounds to be heard in the room were that the sharp, brisk swats of hand meeting backside, Danny having given up his furious protests.

Mostly because the sting mounting in his tail was every bit as consuming as he remembered.

Groaning, he pushed his face into the sofa cushion as his father continued to turn up the heat on his cheeks.

His squirming also petered out, having long since learned that it was not only pointless, but only gave easier access to the dreaded sit spots.

He girt his teeth, and reminded himself sternly that no matter how mortifying it was to be put across his Dad's knee, he deserved it.

Try as he might to hold onto his famous Danny Reagan tough guy image, he found himself struggling to bite back the instinctive yelping as the temperature in his backside continued to rise.

Frank for his part kept his mouth shut as he continued to pepper his son's backside with deliberate swats. Keeping a tight arm around his waist, he reluctantly carried on roasting his butt. He sighed when he sensed the rigour of Danny's torso.

They still had a bit to go.

Danny for his part was beginning to lose the battle with stoicism. He let out the odd yelp here and there was a particularly stinging swat caught him on the same spot. He also knew that the likelihood of him keeping custody of his pants for the entirety of his punishment was unlikely.

As if reading his mid, his father suddenly stilled his hand and released his hold on his oldest.

"Ok, up you get Danny, and go get the brush" he commanded firmly, once again, feeling like a monster.

He despised this part of being a father.

To his relief, the kid after a brief moment of hesitation, heaved himself up and reluctantly made his way across the room to the bureau that housed the dreaded brush.

Scooping it up quickly, he made his way back to the sitting Frank and held it out wordlessly.

Nodding encouragingly, Frank took it, hiding his own distaste of the item with an actor's skill.

"Lose the pants son."

Groaning, Danny shot an uncharacteristically pleading look his way.

"Come on Dad…I get it ok? No more hitting the kid…c'mon man…"

He received no verbal answer.

The arching of the famous brow elicited a sigh from him, but he knew when to give up the ghost.

Fumbling with his pants, he quickly let them fall down to his ankles. Before he could even have time to process this difference in dress, he found himself upended over Frank's knee once more.

Tugging down his son's boxers deftly, the elder Reagan quickly resumed his hold on the squawking, younger Reagan.

Lecturing was pointless, so with a deep breath, he raised his arm and delivered the first needling whap of the thick brush, that had just a couple of weeks before, warmed Jamie's tail.

Wishing the punishment to come to an end, he wasted no time in delivering the rest of his son's spanking in earnest. The upturned butt was quickly taking on a crimson hue, and the strong front of its recipient was quickly dwindling.

No longer caring about appearing unperturbed, Danny yelped and hissed as the well used brush came down on his well presented backside again and again.

He wasn't even embarrassed when the beginnings of tears sprang up in his eyes, as he squirmed instinctively out of the way of the woods mighty sting.

"Stay still son" Frank instructed gently as the squirming got slightly out of hand, "I don't want to hurt you."

There was a derisive snort in between the yelping and embryonic hollering.

"Newsflash Dad…that thing damn well hurts" Danny sulked, as his father merely rolled his eyes.

"Always with the cheek" he murmured under his breath, as he lifted his right knee slightly, angling the kid's ruby red backside upwards.

Painting a thick coat of red on the tender sit spots, he felt a relief when Danny's rigid torso instantly began to deflate over his knee.

They were nearly there.

Delivering the last of his eldest's punishment, he cleared his throat to be heard over the now quite loud yelping, and the quieter crying.

His heart pieced at the sounds of Danny's distress, but he had come this far.

"You do _not_ lay hands on your brother…ever. Have I made that _clear_ to you son?"

The frantic nodding of the dark head assured him it was clear.

"You will end up where you are right now _every single time_ if you do. Is that _also_ clear?"

More vigorous nodding answered him.

"I don't _ever_ want a repeat performance of tonight's show, understood?"

The croaked out "understood" wafted out from the tangle of arms that housed his son's head and he laid a gentle hand on his back.

"Nearly there then kiddo, nearly there."

With that, he miserably drew his hand back and delivered a further flurry of firm, deliberate licks with the brush. With the last thwack, his son's stiff demeanour broke completely, and he began to sob quietly over his knee.

Feeling relief flood him that the whole episode was over, Frank threw the brush away from him immediately, and began rubbing a soothing hand over the small of Danny's back.

"Alright now…you're ok son…I got you, you're ok now…"

The eldest Reagan merely continued to cry, albeit slightly quieter, into his arms as his Dad continued to murmur reassuringly to him.

Frank didn't make any effort to rouse his son from his current perch, knowing it was rare for Danny to be in a position to completely expel all his emotions.

He therefore merely continued to rub a hand across his back, and allowed him to cry himself out.

Eventually though, his eyes ran dry, and Danny made to lift himself up off of his father's knee, wincing as the answering sting in his backside radiated through him.

Quickly tugging his pants back up, as Frank turned away tactfully, he couldn't help the whimper that escaped him as the fabric offended against his smoking posterior.

As he looked up from fastening his slacks, he saw his father watching him anxiously.

Being unusually emotionally intuitive in that moment, he shot him a faint smile.

"I'm ok Dad…I'm fine."

Breathing out a sigh of relief that ruffled his moustache, Frank wordlessly opened his arms.

It was a testament to how guilt free he now felt, that Danny shot into the embrace with an athlete's speed, allowing himself just in that moment, to be coddled.

Holding his eldest to him tightly, Frank rested his head on the head tucked into his chest.

"You understand why I had to do that Danny?" he muttered quietly, feeling the usual bout of anxiety that his kid would resent him lingering in his mind.

The younger man broke away from the embrace to look up at him.

"Mom always did say I learned more from action than I did from talk" he grinned in answer.

Frank stared at him for a moment, before snorting in laughter.

"That she did" he laughed, "…she knew a lot more than me."

Both lapsed into a companionable silence for a moment, remembering wife and mother in their own respective ways.

Eventually Frank cleared his throat.

"OK son, you're forgiven now. Completely forgiven, and I'm damn proud of how you handled yourself tonight, you got that?"

Danny smiled immediately, feeling light hearted and unburdened by acidic guilt.

"Got it."

Returning the smile, Frank rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Good, because just _one_ more thing… you're also on KP duty after Sunday dinner for the next month as well."

The handsome face fell dramatically, causing the PC to chuckle and shrug his shoulders.

"Don't do the crime if…"

"Yeah yeah, I got it, I got it" Danny snapped half heartedly in interruption, rolling his eyes.

Returning the eye roll, Frank pulled his son into him once more.

"Love you kid."

Danny hid a small smile in the elder man's shirt.

"…love you too Dad."

Breaking apart, with a ruffle to his oldest son's hair, Frank opened his mouth, but was interrupted once more.

But this time, not by Danny.

From the banister, having just arrived and taking in the embrace of father and son and the still red rimmed quality of Danny's eyes, a breath was hitched.

And then a small, gentle laugh was heard.

Both men turned to see a much brighter looking Jamie Reagan perched on the carpeted staircase.

"You two…" he drawled, with his trademark grin "are just so _cute."_

Frank and Danny exchanged a look, before each starting to move towards the staircase in synchornisation.

Pealing laughter met them, as Jamie took flight and hightailed it back up the stairs.

Returning his father's exasperated grin, Danny shook his head.

"…and you say _I'm_ the difficult one."

…

TBC? Not sure, we'll see how it goes! Thanks for reading guys, hope you enjoyed!

…


	7. Off Book

Eddie Janko blinked in complete and utter bewilderment at the plan being put forth to her by her partner. The level headed, patient and all in all "calm" Reagan offspring had clearly lost his mind. Watching him pace up and down in agitated anger, her brows furrowed in confusion.

It was a complete role reversal.

Usually it was _her_ that got too emotionally involved in their cases. Usually it was _her_ pushing _him_ to take a flying leap off the reservation.

Seeing his pacing come to a still, she spied the opportunity to try and talk some sense in him. In hindsight, she would come to realise that doing so was probably just a fool's errand.

"Jamie" she began cautiously, before throwing caution to the winds "are you on crack?"

The youngest of the first family of law enforcement merely looked askance in her direction.

"How can you be so chill about this Eddie?" he demanded angrily, "we're being absolutely _screwed_ here."

She blinked.

"So you think the best alternative to being screwed his to completely and utterly disobey the chain of command Jamie?"

He stared at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"Since _when_ do you care about stepping out of line?"

She shook her head impatiently in his direction, stray locks of golden hair becoming more dislodged by the irritated action.

"When it's out of…out of petulance" she spluttered, "we got shafted. It happens alright, it happens all the time. Let it go, and let's just get back out on tour ok?"

He stubbornly stood rooted to the spot.

"Eddie, if this was the other way around, and you were asking me, you _know_ I'd have your back."

She gaped at him.

"That's not fair Jamie."

He merely shrugged back at her.

"It is what it is, I'm sick and tired of being either pussyfooted around because I'm the Commissioners son, _or,_ being targeted because I'm the Commissioners son. You think Danny would put up with this crap?"

She stared at him in obvious surprise, an irritable Jamie not being near to being considered the norm.

"You're not him, Jamie" she murmured after a moment, "you're not Danny."

He looked at her oddly for a moment, before turning on his heel with a "don't I know it" tossed over his shoulder. Scrambling to keep up at a complete loss as to her partners unusual sensitivity, Eddie sighed.

"What do you want to do then?"

He stopped his agitated bout of walking, and looked down at her with the lopsided grin that she loved so much.

"Get even."

She rolled her eyes, and stifled a sigh.

"…and what does _that_ look like?"

He stared impassively for a moment, before beckoning her into a nearby, empty, holding room.

"Well…that was supposed to be our security detail, right?"

She nodded slowly.

"Right."

Looking outside the room and seeing no one of worry, Jamie ran a hand through his short hair as the plan came to fruition in his mind.

"Well, those two… _officers_ who stole it from us, should go along with route we mapped out, yes?"

Feeling like a jack in the box, she nodded her head again.

"Yeah…they should, so what?"

Jamie grinned down at her and she eyed him nervously. This wasn't the normal Jamie Reagan. The everything by the book, Harvard educated Jamie Reagan.

No…no matter what she'd said just moments earlier, this was _much_ more Danny Reagan behaviour.

The beginnings of unease settled in Eddie's stomach as she listened to the excitable ramblings of the youngest offspring of her Commissioner.

When his voice eventually died out, and he looked at her with an expectant expression on that maddeningly handsome face, she felt her unease kick up another notch.

Shaking her head just in case she'd misheard him, she looked up at him in amazement.

"Have you _lost_ your _mind_ Reagan?" she whispered, "if we get caught, we're looking at a two week rip at _best."_

He cast her reservations aside with an airy wave of his hand.

"That's why we _don't_ get caught Eddie" he reassured confidently, "come on, you can't honestly tell me you're down with what those two morons did?!"

The rage that had flickered in her at their colleagues' deception _did_ reignite when he put it like that.

They _were_ always the ones shafted, and _yeah_ , a lot of that had to do with Jamie being the PC's kid.

The envisaged look on those two jokers' faces shone in her mind's eye, as she ran through his plan again.

"You really think we can pull this off without getting caught?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with the mischief that only a rookie could harbour.

The lopsided smile was back as he nodded his head with a supreme air of confidence.

"Sure. It's an in and out job, no one will ever even know we were there, let alone that…what happens, has _anything_ to do with us."

There was a quiet as she digested this, her mind working overtime under her mop of golden hair.

Jamie waited impatiently as he saw the cogs turning in his partners mind. The injustice of the situation burned inside him. A small, lone, sensible voice inside him told him that a lot of his anger was stemming from the manifestly unfair tongue lashing his father had dished out to he and his sister last night.

…and all because they'd upset his precious _Danny._

The same Danny who nearly split his head open, but still, he _mustn't_ be upset.

No one ever wanted to cross his older brother, and he sure as hell knew the reason why.

Because he wasn't a walkover. He wasn't easy going, and mild mannered like the youngest Reagan son. Oh no, Daniel Reagan took what he wanted, when he wanted, and thought nothing of the consequences.

…and _he_ had made detective in three years.

Playing by the rules, being flawlessly polite and compassionate was getting him nowhere, and Jamie was growing more and more frustrated as the beat days went on and on.

It was definitely time to start making a name for _himself,_ and to cast off the dual shadows of being Frank Reagan's son and Danny Reagan's little brother.

His inner diatribe was cut short by the response he was hoping to hear.

"Alright Reagan, you're on."

Breaking out into his winning smile, Jamie playfully punched his partner on the arm and steered her out the door with a quiet whoop of celebration.

Their cheerful voices melted into the hustle and bustle of the busy halls and were soon lost.

Meanwhile, clutching the precinct captain's report he'd needed, DCPI Garrett Moore felt his heart sink.

Obviously, the two officers hadn't realised that there was a slightly ajar back door to the office they had hatched their _moronic_ plan in.

Obviously, they hadn't realised that the Commissioners right hand was in their precinct.

Obviously, they hadn't realised, that they'd just made a huge… _huge_ mistake.

…

TBC

…

A/N: So, I've decided to carry on this one and see where it goes. No firm plotline in mind, so shout if you want to see something, otherwise when I know what's happening you guys will!

Thanks for reading!


	8. Catch me if you Can

Standing outside the Commissioner's office, Garrett hummed and hawed. When he convinced himself that he was doing the right thing, he would take a step forwards. When he reminded himself that Jamie was the only of the Reagan brood that _didn't_ usually raise his blood pressure, he took a step back.

Truth be told, he liked Jamie. He was a great kid, who was in the makings of becoming a terrific cop and all in all was his least taxing aspect of the overall first family.

Baker looked on in utter amusement as the usually decisive DCPI continued to look like he was trying out for a middle school ballet.

"Shall I tell him you're here?" she asked with a poorly concealed grin, "he had has about ten minutes before his next appointment.

Her hand moved to the phone, and Garrett's eyes widened as he held up his hands.

"Stop" he spluttered, before regaining his composure and straightening his tie absentmindedly, "I mean…it can wait. There's no need…" he ran a hand through his hair, "I'll talk to you later Baker."

With that, he spun on his heel and rapidly made his way back down to his own floor with a very bemused Detective left in his wake.

Barrelling into his own office he sighed loudly. The Commissioners insistences that he didn't want to know what his kids were doing in respect of the jobs that they did, was often his greatest oversight. Although well intentioned, the attitude often backfired, and left them in a position where they were scrambling to play catch up.

In this situation, they were oddly in front of the eight ball. Jamie and his partner's _moronic_ plan hadn't taken place yet. They could be stopped.

Stopping them however, meant informing Frank. Who at first wouldn't want to hear it, and then, after hearing it would becoming mildly indignant with rage.

Swivelling his eyes to his cell, Garrett bit his lip.

What if there was another way…

It wasn't palatable. Though he had long since conceded that trying to find a way out of the mess the youngest Reagan was creating was simply a fool's errand. Cradling the phone in his hands, he took a reluctant breath and punched in a number.

After a couple of rings, the call connected.

"Reagan."

Frowning, as he always did, at the _always_ clipped tone, Garrett braced himself.

"Danny, it's Garrett."

He could practically _feel_ the eye roll on the other end of the line.

"DCPI Moore, how can I help you today?"

Ignoring, with difficulty the sardonic drawl, Garrett forced himself to explain the reasoning for his call and set about the unpleasant task of relaying the idiotic plan he had overhead between Jamie and his partner.

There was a silence on the other end of the line long after he finished his recounting, and he was beginning to worry that Danny had lost the art of speech.

"He's going to do _what?"_

The usual brusque demeanour was dispensed with, and the quiet tone oozed pure shock. Which for Danny Reagan, was _quite_ the feat.

Murmuring rapidly into the phone Garrett assured him that this was in no way a joke, before making rather undignified pleas' for help.

After a moment's consideration, Danny was struck by a thought.

"Why didn't you go to my old man with this? Surely he's the one you should be talking to?"

There was a silence as Garrett pondered this, before answering with the cold hard truth.

"Because ,Jamie is the only one of you people that doesn't make my Cardiologist frown when he reads my charts, and I'd like to keep him in and around…you know…the _Earth."_

The dark chuckle on the other end of the line let him know he was right to have such reservations.

"I see your point. Well now…the golden boy really _is_ coming into this own" Danny pondered out loud, "I'd never have believed it."

Running a hand through his hair yet again in exasperated frustration, Garrett glanced at his watch.

"What are you going to _do_ about it Danny? You only have about an hour to get to him before he goes ahead with this idiocy."

There was a silence, but Garrett correctly assumed that it was because the eldest Reagan offspring was grabbing his coat and ducking his sergeant.

The slight sounds of a balmy wind echoed through the line, and again, he correctly assumed that Danny was now outside his precinct.

"I'm on the way to his house now" came the mutter, "you better hope he and his partner are still there, otherwise, this is going to turn very bad, very fast."

Leaning back in his chair and battling conflicting emotions of relief and anxiety, Garrett glanced at his watch again and silently prayed that he would get there in time.

Just as he was about to end the call with strict instructions to be immediately looped in when the idiotic plans of Officer Reagan had been scuppered, Danny's voice filled the line again.

His suddenly very _angry_ voice.

"I think we may have a problem Deputy Commissioner."

Rolling his eyes slightly at the unnecessary evaluation, Garrett loosened his tie that seemed to be forming a stranglehold on his neck.

"Well _yeah_ Danny, that's _why_ I called you remember?"

The sudden screeching of tires pierced his ears and his eyes fluttered in protest.

"Garrett?"

The voice was not Danny's usual confident drawling, this time it was…scared.

Danny Reagan _scared?_

"What is it?" the Commissioners right hand murmured anxiously, checking the time once again. The older Reagan brother still had another forty nine minutes to get to Jamie's precinct.

There was a silence for a moment, save for the sound of accelerating and protesting tires and a guttering engine.

" _Danny?"_

Gritted teeth muffled the answer somewhat, but he got it regardless. Sinking back in his chair, he rubbed twitching eyes and groaned.

"You're sure?"

The protesting engine whirred up another notch.

" _Yes_ I'm sure damnit! I know what my own goddamned brother looks like!"

Garret swallowed and felt the familiar Reagan induced weariness wash over him.

"He's in front of you?"

"A couple of cars ahead, in his partner's car. So no radio, and he's not answering his cell."

Finding the time to be impressed that Danny had mastered the art of call waiting, Garrett thought rapidly.

…and came up blank.

"What are you going to do?"

The squelching of tires and blaring of horns dampened the response somewhat, but when Danny very kindly _roared_ it, he caught every syllable.

"I'm gonna stop him…and then, then… I'm gonna _kill him."_

….

TBC

…


	9. Car Trouble

Taking a deep breath, and praying to god that there was no traffic cop within a hundred miles, Danny screeched his car into overdrive. Swerving past outraged road users, he caught up with his most _moronic_ of sibling's vehicle, and was soon tailgating it.

Viciously.

Blaring his horn, and clenching his teeth, he saw both Jamie and his partner glance in the rear view mirror and pale somewhat.

Gesticulating wildly to a nearby, empty parking space he prayed to god they would have the sense to pull over.

If they didn't…then he _really_ wouldn't have any choice but to call their father… and he sure as hell didn't want to do that.

He kind of liked having a kid brother.

It really wasn't so bad, when you thought about it that is.

He'd gotten quite used to him over the years in fact, and having to testify against his own dad in the resultant murder trial would probably be stressful.

He breathed out a gutful of air as the car in front of him suddenly veered off in the direction of the space, and cut its engine. Guiding his own car behind his brother's, Danny instantly hopped out and barrelled his way to the driver's door.

Wrenching it open, he stuck his head in aggressively and glared at the two gawping officers that sat rooted in their seats.

Reaching around Jamie, he swiftly unbuckled his belt and shot a glare at a slack jawed Eddie. A particularly piercing glare…even by Danny Reagan standards.

"Terribly sorry officer," he drawled with a biting sarcasm, "I can see that you're in the middle of a just _adorable_ Bonnie and freaking Clyde moment here, but if you'll just excuse us…I need a word with this _moron."_

With that, he grasped a still muted Jamie from his car and all but frogmarched him back to his awaiting vehicle. Pulling open the passenger door, he deposited the youngest Reagan in the seat and stormed his way round to the driver's side.

Sliding in, he glared at his brother for just a moment before issuing a smart rapt upside the head.

Yelping, Jamie instantly reached up to massage the much swatted body part of his childhood, by his brothers' that was, and retuned the glare full force.

"What the _hell_ was that for?" he demanded angrily, beginning to cast of the shock that had gripped him, and beginning to feel angry as hell about being _manhandled_ in front of Eddie.

Danny couldn't quite believe his ears.

"What was that for? _What was that for?"_ he echoed thunderously, boring a hole in the younger man's sole with his scorching gaze, "are you _serious?"_

Jamie was beginning to feel distinctly hot around the collar, but pride refused to permit him a back down.

"Don't I look serious?"

Danny breathed deeply.

In, and out. In, and out.

Just like the nurse from Linda's pre natal care with Jack had taught him to do.

Gripping the wheel, as a substitute for gripping the kid's neck, he focussed on his breathing a while longer before turning back to face the brat.

"That, Jamie, was for trying to _sabotage another member of your precinct and potentially spread egg all over dad's face on every freaking news paper in the city."_

If a penny had dropped in the car, it would have deafened the occupants as Jamie's jaw fell open and a slight groan emitted from his gut.

"How did you know?" he whispered miserably, and then with a hint of anxiety. If Danny knew, then who the hell else did?

Was Eddie going to get dragged into this? Or was there _even_ a "this?"

His older brother was famous for his gut instincts, and maybe….maybe this was just one of them. Maybe no one knew anything.

That comforting, blanketing thought was swept away from him in one fell swoop as his brother's furious tones once again filled their close confines.

"Oh…I only know, because let me see now…who did I hear it from…" Danny growled, sarcastically rubbing his head in a feigned attempt to conjure up some long lost memory, before snapping his fingers with a feral snarl and nodding.

"Oh _yes…_ Garrett told me. You know Garrett, Jamie? DCPI Moore? Dad's right hand man? Dad's mini dad? That one, you know him?"

He scowled even _more_ ferociously and slammed his hands on the steering wheel in exasperation.

"Because _that's_ who I heard it from, you frigging imbecile. Garret was in your damn precinct, when you and your little partner in crime were hashing out your brain dead plan. He was going to go to _dad_ with it, but decided that your pretty little neck deserved one last helping of air, and came to _me_ instead."

He paused, sucking in another gulping of oxygen, seeing the ashen quality spread across Jamie's face and being irritated by how it still affected him and knocked some of the anger out of him.

Rubbing a hand across his face, he shook his head in disbelief, and ran through the recent, bizarre events once more.

"The _hell_ were you thinking kid?" he growled, "pulling a stunt like that over cops from your own house? Stealing their route, and replacing it with one that sends them into territory that isn't even in their jurisdiction? They could have lost contact with their house, they could have thought they were being lured into a trap, had their judgement utterly compromised."

He paused again, still feeling the shock that _Jamie,_ that _Harvard_ Jamie could have been so utterly stupid, reckless and downright mean spirited.

"They could have gotten hurt, little brother….you could have gotten a fellow officer hurt, because you utterly abused and disregarded the chain of command, something you _know_ damn well not to do."

Jamie for his part was beginning to feel mildly sick.

He hadn't thought of it like that.

Hell, he hadn't really thought at all.

He really hadn't worked his plan through, and he _really_ hadn't worked through dragging Eddie down with him either.

It had seemed like justice at the time, and a way to knock his irritating colleagues off their pedestal.

Now…now it seemed like a juvenile, dangerous and disrespectful prank. He groaned as the full weight of the trouble this could have caused his father had they actually gone through with it. As it was, they were just on their _way_ swap out the manifests.

The usurping officer's, who had basically robbed their detail, didn't leave to pick up their decoy car for another twenty minutes.

They would have had plenty of time, and keys, to switch out the routes and to sit back and watched karma do its thing.

He felt sick to his stomach at the thoughts of it now.

Danny was right, _anything_ could have happened. He slowly reached up to wipe the cold sweat from his face, and turned tortured eyes to his silently watching big brother.

The eldest Reagan knew instantly that the message had finally gotten through, and that the kid was actually seeing things with a clear head.

"You see what I'm saying now kid?"

The limp nodding of the head assured him that he did. Feeling again the maddening twinge at the clammy state of his kid brother, Danny found himself reaching out and ruffling his hair.

"Don't worry," he mumbled quietly, "you've done nothing real yet. Garret will keep his mouth shut, the officer's in control of the security detail will pick up the right manifest, and we can just put this whole mess down to…I dunno, youthful exuberance. Ok?"

Nodding a relieved head, Jamie thanked god that Garret had called Danny, and not his dad, and that the oldest Reagan had caught him just in time.

From the corner of his eye, Danny saw Eddie exit the car and walk towards his own vehicle.

He sighed, and rolled down the window so she could perch on the sidewalk and look in at the two siblings with a moderately bemused expression.

"What's up Reagan?" she asked quietly, "or should I say, what's up Reagan's?"

Just as Jamie was about to open his rather green tinged lips to inform his partner that all bets were off, and that they were going back on tour as they should have been, a sharp rap on his side of the car window had all three law enforcement officials turning their heads.

They didn't really expect to see what they saw.

….and they didn't really expect to have to fight to keep their last meals down in their stomachs.

All three jaws dropped simultaneously, as there, leaning against the car with an expression like thunder was none other than Police Commissioner Frank Reagan.

In tow, was a slightly nauseous looking DCPI Moore, looking like he'd rather be anywhere and everywhere other than where he was.

Rolling down the window slowly, at his father's gesture, Jamie felt the air stick in his throat. Similar gagging sounds beside him would lead him to believe that Danny and Eddie were having similar respiratory issues.

Crouching down beside his son's car, and eyeing the occupants inside and the crouching Eddie outside, Frank raised an infamous brow that had both Jamie's and Danny's guts clenching simultaneously.

"My my….out for a scenic drive, are we boys?"

…..

TBC

…..


	10. Three's a Crowd

Danny and Jamie sat outside the Police Commissioners office, with Eddie having being despatched back to her precinct, and winced as the muted sounds of their father's voice wafted throughout the walls. Detective Baker shot them a reproving look as she leafed through a stack of papers, and briefly wondered how Frank didn't kill the whole lot of them. Inside the impressive office, Frank was thinking the same thing as he glared heavily at his DCPI.

"What on _earth_ were you _thinking_ Garrett?" he thundered, as his second in command shifted guiltily under his ferocious glare. His thick brows knitted as the man shot him a look that was hard to define, before bursting into speech. "I didn't know what else to do," he defended, "you always chew me out for bringing anything to do with your boys to your attention, but I couldn't stand by and let it happen either. Danny…I don't know, he just seemed like the viable option at the time." He wilted slightly as Frank's gaze upgraded from thundering to inferno level scorching, and gulped. "It was a bad decision," he admitted quietly, "I'm sorry…it won't happen again."

Franks nostrils flared.

"I would never even have _known_ about this if it wasn't for the fact that you look like you're about to throw up when you're keeping a secret _and_ if one of my long standing captains hadn't been visiting their precinct, would I?" He paused as an ashen pallor spread across Garrett's face, before continuing. "Oh yes, _that's_ how I know. Now, don't feel like you've been ratted out or anything. Jack thought _you_ had told me, because he saw that _you_ were there and had _also_ overheard. Before he could speak to you about it, he was called away to deal with an urgent matter at his own precinct, safe and secure in the knowledge that my _second in command_ would naturally be informing me."

If there were a soft spot in the floorboards at that moment, Garrett Moore would have happily dove in.

"So when Jack came up here about an hour ago to brief me on his budget, he just as naturally mentioned in passing just how very _foolish_ my boy was and how very _fortunate_ it was that _you_ were to save the day." He sat back in his chair and wondered would he actually die in it, or would he at least be granted to serenity of a home based demise. "Do you know how moronic I felt Garrett, having to tease the full story from him whilst at the same time acting like I knew all there was to know?"

There was a slight stain on the carpet, and the DCPI's gaze was firmly fixed upon as he mumbled.

"I'm sorry…I just, I thought I was doing the right thing." Frank frowned with such a force, his facial muscles screeched in protest. "Newsflash Garret," he growled, "lying to me is _never_ the right thing. Not giving me immediate information when I find out from another source what _you_ should have told me is _also_ never the right thing. Have I made myself clear?" Cringing as he recalled his pretty thin attempt to cover for both himself and the boys when the Commissioner had called him on the carpet just an hour ago, before breaking and spilling his guts, Garrett nodded slowly with a quiet "yes sir."

Breathing out deeply, Frank thought as quickly as possible. Subterfuge of any description was a time honoured no-no any department he'd ever held and he'd given men rips for less. As he eyed the morose looking DCPI however, he knew his intentions however askew, had been guided by an attempt to protect one and then both of his boys. It softened the blow somewhat, but he still would have happily wrung the man's neck. As it was, he focussed on his breathing and kept his hands to himself.

"In future," he clipped out, "if there is something _pressing_ like this with my boys, or _anyone_ in my command, something _anticipatory_ as appose to reactionary, you get your ass in here and you _tell_ me. Do you understand me?" Before Garrett answered, he softened somewhat at the distressed look on the man's face. "Look, I know that I usually shoot you down when you bring things to me about them, but this was different. And I think you know that, am I right?" Nodding and realising that he was indeed right, Garrett held up his hands in defeat. "Yes Commissioner," he conceded, with no bitterness in his tone.

Inclining his hands approvingly, it was Franks turn to be interrupted. "I'm suspended aren't I?" the DCPI interjected miserably, knowing that he had it coming, but the thoughts of enforced time with his wife making his stomach tilt unsettlingly. To his amazement, Frank shook his head with a small, but discernible smile. "No…you're not suspended," he contradicted, "though really, you damned well should be and if this _ever_ happens again, you _will_ be, clear?" Being vaguely tempted to look out the window to see the pigs flying merrily in the New York sky, Garrett managed to nod his head in utter shock.

Biting his lip at the chuckle that was threatening to escape him at flabbergasted look staring back at him, Frank remained as externally stern as all hell. "Don't think you're getting off scot free," he warned darkly, "because I assure you, you're not." He leant back some more and watched the surprise turn to angst. "You have two week's vacation from the end of this week, right?" the Commissioner asked, almost sweetly, and the DCPI's shoulders immediately sagged. This was _not_ good.

"Yes sir," he affirmed warily, hoping against all hope the opportunity to wear his rather stunning new swim suit wasn't about to blow up in his face. Knowing that Garrett thought he had an idea as to where this was headed, Frank forced himself to remain resolutely poker faced. "Good, when you get back, you're going to be on additional duties for a month. You're going to be appearing at every press conference your junior guys would usually handle, writing their releases, sorting their rosters, and grabbing their coffees. You're basically going to double job as my DCPI and a press intern, and I'm not going to hear a word of complaint on the matter. Is that crystal clear?"

The swimsuit suddenly seemed to shrink in his mind's eye as Garrett jerked his head miserably. As creatively horrific as Frank could be with informal punishments, the one he'd just handed down was particularly heinous. He wouldn't hear the end of the ragging his guys would give him for a year, never mind a month. Seeing that the Commissioner was waiting for a verbal answer, he ground out the requisite "yes sir," all the while wishing for that hole in the ground to reappear. Knowing he was being pretty harsh, but equally knowing he had to nip such behaviour in the bud, Frank nodded in dismissal.

"OK, we're done here. Get back to work and send in the boys on your way out. You're dismissed, Garrett." Murmuring, the man spun on his heel and strode from the office as fast as was possible before it could be considered running. Closing the door behind him, he looked at the anxious faces of both Reagan boys and jerked his head in the direction of the room he'd just hightailed it from. "Your turn," he informed them darkly, "and good luck to you both." Before they could utter so much as a syllable, he had strode straight past them and down to the sanctuary of his own floor. Exchanging desperately glum looks, Danny led the way into the office, knowing from experience that the upcoming conversation was going to be decidedly unpleasant.

Frank looked up as his boys inched into the room, and sighed deeply. He'd seen happier looking puppies in the pound. Pointing to the centre spot that Garrett had just vacated, he looked up as they obediently landed himself in front of his desk. Looking at Jamie, he shot Danny a peripherally warning look. "I'm going to hear from you first, Officer Reagan," he ground out, before looking more fully at Danny, "and then I sure as hell am going to hear from you, Detective Reagan. Is that clear?" There was a pressing silence as both cops gulped slightly, before nodding. Satisfied, Frank turned to Jamie and arched a brow. "Start talking."

Chewing his lip, the youngest Reagan cringed slightly as he began recounting his tale. About how he and Eddie's detail had been snatched from them…how his reaction to it had been…well, less than stellar. How he'd wheedled and pleaded with Eddie to go along with it, and how it was his entire fault that Danny got dragged into the sorry mess. Drawing his explanation to a close, he knew that the ramifications were going to go either one of two ways. Either he was going to feel a pain in his formal jacket, or he was going to feel a pain in his ass. For the very first time in his life, he hoped for the latter.

Shaking his head slightly as his son brought his uncharacteristically stammering and stuttering explanation to a close, Frank trained his gaze on his oldest kid. "Same goes for you son, start talking." Nodding, Danny set about recounting a familiar tale, but with slight variation to Jamie's tale. Such variations being that he should have stopped Jamie sooner and that the kid had made a mistake but really those officers were total douches, and everyone knew that. And how Jamie was still pretty green, and nothing actually happened. So no harm and no foul. He stopped talking as his father's gaze became particularly wilting and as the boy interrupted him to dispute the dispensing of blame, and drag it firmly back upon himself.

Holding up a hand a silencing hand, the Commissioner rose from his desk and leant over it, causing both his sons to subconsciously lean back. "Jamie," he began quietly, "what you did was nothing short of a disgrace, showing complete and utter disrespect to the badge that you wear. Dragging your partner into your childish retribution was also nothing short of outrageous. You know better, and yet you did it anyway. You acted like a recalcitrant toddler instead of a highly trained, well educated officer. Do you have _anything_ to say for yourself _whatsoever?"_

Gulping down the hard cased ball of guilt that was resting in his throat, Jamie shook his head and stared at the floor. "I'm sorry dad," he whispered, "I…I don't know what I was thinking. And I'm sorry that Garrett and Danny got dragged into it too, please…this is _all_ my fault, please don't punish them…" Shaking his head, Frank resisted the familiar urge to just hug his youngest kid and tell him it was all ok. With great difficulty, but somehow he managed. "I'm very disappointed in you Jamie; you've really let yourself, your job and your family down with this stunt. I can only hope you are as ashamed of yourself, as I am at the moment, I… _really_ would never have expected this from you."

He might as well have thrown an ice bucket of water over his youngest, as the cold sensation seeped throughout him, forcing his gaze more downwards than ever before, his shoulder sagging. His eyes were so trained downwards that he didn't catch the deeply sympathetic look his brother shot him. It was a commonly accepted fact between the Reagan kids' that their father's anger was much easier to deal with than his calm disappointment. That… _that_ hurt like a bitch. Seeing his words had penetrated Jamie with more of a force than an enraged tirade ever could, Frank sighed reluctantly and turned his attention to his oldest.

"As for _you,"_ he continued, "your behaviour isn't much better. I don't know _how_ many times I've told you Daniel Reagan that if something like this ever comes up, you come _straight_ to _me._ You don't put yourself in a position where your hands can get burned as well," seeing that Danny was about to interrupt, he held up a hand. "I _know,_ he interjected, "I _know_ you were just trying to look out for your brother, and you know how much I love that about you son, but this was _different_ and you know it. Isn't that right?"

Danny shrunk somewhat under the enormity of his father's stare, and joining his brother in staring at the floor, mumbled "yes sir." Swiping a hand across his face, Frank thought rapidly, and came to a rather unpleasant conclusion, but certainly the lesser of two evils. "Eyes up and ahead, the pair of you," he ordered crisply, and two gazes instantly snapped to attention."Now, is there _any_ confusion in either of you as to what you both did or why I'm so angry with you?" Both heads shook in negative unison, both Reagan offspring's acutely aware of their conduct. Frank nodded, and continued. "Because Danny managed to save you, Jamie, from your own stupidity in time, there has been nothing done that would absolutely require me to take formal action," he said softly, "but I'm going to give you two a choice. You can both take a two week rip, or I can tear your asses up instead. Your call, entirely up to you. Option A or Option B boys?"

A supreme silence reigned as both Danny and Jamie shot each other despairing looks, the other's decision clearly written over their faces. Both of them felt guilty as hell, Jamie for what he did and for dragging Danny into it. Danny for not doing what he knew he should have down the very second he had answered that phone call. Jamie could have lost his job if he didn't get to him in time. He took a gamble that wouldn't have been the case had his father been informed. He may be a great detective, but as of yet, he sure as hell didn't have the Commissioner's reach.

Their voices rang out in unison. "Option B." Feeling a bout of pride tinged with the familiar misery that always preceded what he was about to do, Frank nodded slowly. Before he could say another word, he was cut off, anxiously. "What about Eddie, dad?" Jamie blurted out, "Is she going to get a rip? Cos', that's not fair, because if I-" Commissioner Reagan held up a silencing hand. "I will think of something for Officer Janko son, right now…you should just be worried for yourself."

Not altogether comforted by this statement, Jamie nodded, grateful at least that Eddie wouldn't be suspended. He honestly didn't think he could cope with that. His thoughts were interrupted as his father strode around his desk, and walked to the corner of his office that branched out into a conference room and an assortment of other rooms that neither he nor Danny had ever seen. Resting his hand on the handle of this side door, Frank looked back at his sons and jerked his head. "Follow me boys."

Exchanging horrified glances, Danny and Jamie managed to propel themselves forward after the Commissioner, a sickening feeling spreading throughout them. Surely… _surely_ the man didn't intend to remove the pleasure of sitting from them _here,_ in freaking one PP? Pushing Jamie securely behind him, Danny took the lead and followed the eldest Reagan down a veritable labyrinth of corridors and doors. Coming to a halt outside a door that had a certain disused quality about it, they both watched as Frank fished a master key out of his pocket and creaked the door open, ushering them in before him.

Blinking as the lights flooded on in the oddly windowless room, the boys looked around in confusion. This was clearly, at one time, a conference room of sorts. But the room sang of abandonment, and both severely doubted a conference had been conducted within its confines in at least the last five years. Looking at their father in an obvious lack of comprehension as he locked the door from the inside, he strode into the room and went to a dusty cabinet that stood next to the large, rectangular conference table.

Turning, he spoke quietly. "This, boys, was the original conference room of this place. It also served a dual purpose, back…" he whistled reminiscently, "back when you two were just a thought your mother and I had, and that was a…shall we say, _disciplinary purpose._ Of an informal nature." He paused, indicating the thick walls and windowless aspect of the room. "Completely sound proof, so a natural choice to coincide with conferences."

He spied the dawning of comprehension on his sons faces and felt a stab of sadness. "There should _still_ be…" he broke off, turning to root around in the cabinet, and finally extracting what he was looking for. "Yup…still here," he mused, holding the all too familiar paddle in his hands, with the NYPD logo etched into it by hands long since deceased. Knowing from rookie experience how much the wood in his hand stung, he groaned inwardly at what was coming next.

Danny recovered first.

" _Dad,"_ he hissed, "come on man…not _here…_ not with _that…_ come on, have a heart. We're _sorry,"_ he nudged Jamie firmly, who nodded fervently. Shaking his head sadly, Frank stood firm. "Oh no boys, you two want to disrespect the job, it seems fitting that the repercussions of that take place here. Trust me, no one can hear or walk in."

That peaked Danny's interests.

"You seem to know a lot about this room," he mused, ignoring their own plight for a second and even allowing himself a knowing grin. "Spent much time in here, have you?" His peripheral vision caught a similar, irrepressible smirk spreading across his kid brother's face, as they stared at their father in mild accusation. The idea of a Frank Reagan that required a trip to this room was mildly hilarious.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Frank jerked his head in the direction of the conference table. "We can chat all about memory lane when you two have paid the piper. Now, get yourselves front and centre." It was a relatively simple instruction, but two sets of eyes widened as if he'd just asked them to cure global warning. "Together?" Jamie squeaked, "you never….I mean, we're never….uhh…" Crossing the room with a sigh, Frank reached out and gently grasped Jamie by the arm and placed him at one spot in front of the conference table. Stepping back, he reached out with an equal gentleness and grasped Danny, placing him about a foot apart from his brother, before stepping back and eying them sternly.

"I know I very rarely punish you two together, but this time, I can't think of anything more fitting. You both got yourselves into this mess, so you can both take the ramifications together." Stepping back, he willed himself to find the strength he needed to get this done, so they could all put this behind them and never think of it again. He found himself realising with a jolt that he'd placed Jamie in the very spot that he'd last been in when…well, the last time he'd been in this room. Seeing that both his kids were staring at him with that damn puppy dog expression they'd mastered by age five, he cleared his throat and spoke with a firmness he didn't really feel, and gripped the paddle in his hand.

"Over the table, boys. Now."

…..

TBC

…..

.


	11. Memory Lane

Using his sons' apparent lack of bodily function to his advantage, Frank shrugged out of his suit jacket, throwing it over a nearby chair neatly. Placing the paddle down, for just a moment, he un-cuffed his right shirt sleeve, and rolled it up to his elbow, as two sets of eyes widened apprehensively. Plucking it back up, and realising with a jolt that he'd never been on the giving side of it, he looked sternly at his stationary offspring's.

"Boys…I'm quite sure that I made myself clear. Now, you can either get yourselves over that table," he paused, looking at Jamie, "take off your tool belt son," he ordered quietly, before refocusing his gaze on the two of them as his youngest complied slowly, "or…you can get over my knee. It's entirely up to yourselves, but neither of you are leaving this room with the ability to sit comfortably for a week, I assure you."

Jamie's tool belt fell to the floor with a dull thud.

Both Reagan boys exchanged a look of horror with each other, before simultaneously throwing themselves over the expansive table, burying their respective heads in their folded hands. It was despite the seriousness of the situation that Frank had to bite down a small grin. Neither of his two had changed a jot. Given the choice, they would avoid going over his knee at all costs. He was firmly reminded of a much younger Danny, urgently informing an equally younger Jamie that if ever given the choice, to _never_ choose going over their father's knee. His lips twitched at the serious expression on Jamie's face as he'd accepted his brother's assurances that being spanked over their dad's knee was a _girl's_ punishment.

Shaking his head slightly, he returned to, and steeled himself for the moment he found himself in. He hated to do what he was about to do, but really, he didn't have a choice. Clearing his throat slightly, he gripped the paddle tightly in his hand and moved forwards to stand beside Jamie's upended backside. The tight space between his two boys' was such that he could easily lean over his youngest's torso, to deal with his eldest's backside. Closing his eyes briefly, he sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn't have to do this ever again.

He knew it was a waste of time, but still…no harm, no foul.

"I never want to have cause to treat either of you like this again, do you hear me boys?" he asked quietly, trying a more _earthly_ plane, with an equal degree of futility. Two muffled, but sincere "yes dads'" wafted up from two sets of arms, and he sighed internally. As stern and commanding as he appeared, Frank Reagan was at heart, a total soft touch when it came to his kids. It might be cliché as all hell, but this _did_ hurt him…maybe not in the same place as it would hurt _them,_ but still…it hurt nonetheless.

Tightening his hold on Jamie's uniform shirt clad back, he placed the paddle against his backside and tried to ignore the stiffening quality of his youngest boy's back. Pulling himself together, he drew the thick wood back and brought it down with an unmerciful crack against his kid's rear end. The hissing gasp that escaped the boy was not unprecedented, and nor was the way in which he quickly swallowed it down. Knowing that his brother was right beside him was an even bigger incentive to take his punishment without a fuss, and Jamie was determined to get through his paddling as quietly, and quickly, as possible. The deep, stinging pain that instantly gripped his posterior _really_ didn't help matters though.

Wincing at the sounds of his boy's distress, Frank reluctantly leaned over him slightly, maintaining the hold on his back. Both thankful and unthankful for his long arms, he raised the paddle high and brought it down with an identical force against the upturned backside of his eldest. An almost identical gasp was issued, before being quickly gulped back down. It was bad enough to still have his tail warmed by his father, but Danny sure as hell wasn't going to make a deal out of it with his baby brother right beside him. Closing his eyes as the pain instantly clung to his butt, he gritted his teeth and buried his head further in his arms, determined to ride out his punishment as quietly as possible.

Returning his attention to Jamie's backside, Frank wearily raised the paddle once more. Before long, he had settled into a very steady tempo, of firm, well aimed licks, alternating between his two boys' with every thwack. The stoic front of both Reagan men was starting to take a hit, as the heat built in their respective rears. Danny, who had by _far_ the most experience of feeling their father's displeasure against his backside, held in his sounds of distress slightly better than the golden child beside him. Every little gasp of pain that escaped the kid, hurt _him_ too, the big brother in him forcing him to work hard to resist the urge of pulling Jamie from the path of that damned wicked paddle.

The only upright Reagan in the room was having a hard time keeping it together.

The amount of times he'd punished his boys together could be counted on one hand, and he had forgotten how _difficult_ it was. It was hard enough to both listen to and be the cause of _one_ child's distress, being the cause of _two…_ was heartbreaking. Groaning to himself, he continued to dish out well earned swats upon both upturned backsides, drawing more frequent, and louder hisses of pain from their recipients. Landing down one particularly searing swat apiece, he willed himself to get through the next part. Speaking slightly louder than normal to be heard over the whimpers of pain, he swiped a hand across his face and stepped back from his perch, removing his hand from Jamie's back.

"Alright boys, stand up and lose the pants."

Neither of the two moved.

He sighed.

"Boys…this is not a negotiation. Up you get now, get those pants down and bend back over that table."

He wondered, as he spoke, if the hatred he suddenly felt for himself was anything like the feelings his own father had told him he experienced with _him._ He hoped it wasn't. He wouldn't wish the feeling he was feeling, as he watched his kid's get slowly to their feet with a wince, on anyone. Taking in their flushed faces, their dangerously watery eyes and the morose expressions, he felt himself swoon slightly.

Both boys stood back from the table, fumbled a bit with the clasp of their trousers, before obediently bending back over the table. Frank watched, with a certain pride, the very subtle, but supportive squeeze Danny gave Jamie's shoulder, before burying his head once more in his arms. Gulping slightly, Frank moved back into position himself, and replaced his hand upon Jamie's back. Patting the paddle against his now crimson backside, he bit back his own self resentment, and brought the paddle down with a firm lick across the fiery butt.

This time, Jamie didn't even try to remain stoic as he yelped loudly, whimpering as the pain increased momentously without the protection of his slacks. Wishing he could pluck him up from the table, but knowing he couldn't, the eldest of the three leant over and dished out a similar searing swat across Danny's similarly reddened backside. Perhaps he was trying to let Jamie it was ok to drop the macho act, or perhaps he couldn't help it, but Danny let out a _loud_ squawk and a whimpered, _"dad…c'mon…please."_

Feeling sick at the inability to yield to his son's pleas, Frank settled back into alternating the paddles force between both his offspring's, but with a lesser force. He sensed, from their softening torsos, and the telltale sounds of soft crying from Jamie, that the lesson he was trying to teach had nearly been well learnt. With one very well placed swat to Danny's under curve, his youngest was no longer alone in his soft sobbing.

Stepping back slightly, Frank rubbed his face and brought the punishment to a close. One last stinging swat apiece, saw him throwing the paddle down out of his hands and sweeping around Jamie, to edge into the gap between his boy's. Placing a hand on both of their heads, he spoke quietly, and calmly to them. The way he always did to any of his kids' when they were in trouble, or upset in anyway.

Rubbing a gentle hand through a soft mop of sandy brown hair, and a slightly shorter mop of dark hair, he waited with an unwavering patience as the soft crying on either side of him petered out into a conjoined bout of sniffling and snuffling. Running a hand over their backs as they calmed, he cleared his throat and managed _somehow_ to find his stern voice, hopefully for the last time of the evening, though…with his brood, nothing was certain.

"Your mother and I raised you two boys' to respect the law, and to respect the NYPD. Your actions today, were disrespectful to both. You know where the line is, it's been in the same spot since you were born. Do _not_ walk across it again, and do _not_ make me do this again...because, let me tell you, I don't care _how_ old you pair are…you're still my sons', and you put yourselves or your jobs in danger, you'll still answer to me. Are we clear?"

There was a deathly silence for a moment as both Reagan boy's struggled to make their voices sound as if they hadn't _just_ been crying. Two rather croaked "yes dads'" rang out from buried heads, and Frank returned his hand to each son's hair, and ruffled it gently.

His tone, when he spoke, was now equally as gentle.

"Alright fellas, you're forgiven and let us just forget this whole mess ever took place. For what it's worth, and I'm sure it's not worth much right _now,_ but…you both did me proud with the way you accepted your punishment." He paused, continuing to tousle both offspring's hair. "Proud of you two boy's. Now…." he removed his hands, and stepped back, "up you get." As his two started to stir, Frank made a lengthy chore of putting the paddle back where it belonged, fervently hoping he would be dead and buried before it ever, if ever, made an appearance again.

Knowing through the hisses that echoed behind him that his attempts at tactful privacy granting had been successful, Frank turned to face his boys'. He schooled his face into impassiveness, to hide the familiar bout of anxiety that was trundling through him. He knew he was a hard ass at times, and he knew he didn't let his kid's get away with much, but that didn't mean that he didn't fear the day he could see resentment in their eyes for his methods. Looking into the two sets that stared back at him, red around the rims, all he saw however, was sheepish regret.

Arching a brow at the pair of them, he tilted his head as he opened his arms.

"You two too big to give your old man a hug, or what?" he teased lightly, before feeling what little oxygen he had in his lungs give way. Being as broad as he was allowed for each son to take one side of him, and he chuckled in relief as he wrapped an arm around each of them. Releasing him after the moment, he jerked his head in the door's direction.

"Let's get out of here," he instructed quietly, "Baker will probably have left lunch in my office by now, I'm sure you two could eat?" The brightening expression on both offspring's face caused him to chuckle, as he led the way out of the room, rolling down his sleeve and grabbing his jacket as he went. The familiar guilt he always felt after bringing any of his brood back in line was settling in his stomach, but he banished it as best he could with stern self reminders that it was, cliché or not, for their own good.

Holding open the door to his office, he saw that there _was_ indeed a three person lunch spread out on his desk. Making a mental note to push for a raise for Baker, he gestured to the two seats in front of his desk before throwing himself wearily down in his own chair.

Neither of this two boy's moved, but their eyes were practically boring a hole in the amassed food. Frank raised a brow. "You two not hungry?" he asked in confusion. He couldn't recall a time when they _weren't_ hungry. Jamie looked at Danny sceptically, before returning a hungry gaze on the food in front of him.

"Uhh…may we stand?" Danny eventually murmured, gesturing to the relatively hard chairs that were clearly the cause of the problem. Frank ran a gaze over the seats and his sons, and shook his head. "No you may not," he replied, "I didn't raise two hyena's, we _sit_ for food." He jerked his head towards the chairs. "So, sit."

The sad, puppy dog expressions that stared back at him…in a very _rare_ bout of capitulation, worked.

"Oh, all right then," he laughed quietly, "either go and sit on the sofa or stand." The beaming expressions that stared back at him were worth the concession, as both boy's grabbed their respective share and hightailed it as fast as their scorched rear ends would allow, over to the very soft leather sofa.

Just as peace began to descend, sweet, unobtrusive silence and serenity, it was broken. Frank looked up despairingly through a mouth of decadent chow mein at both his sniggering sons, and narrowed his eyes. Surely… _surely_ they should be able to at least _act_ sombre and reflective after having their tails so thoroughly warmed. Though he knew from both past and present experience, that they generally bounced back to their _ways_ as soon as the immediate sting dissipated even a jot.

Eying his now speaking eldest, and his snorting youngest, he felt exasperation well up inside him.

"So, dad," Danny smirked, "we'd like to take you up on that promise of a memory lane chat now."

…..

TBC

….

A/N: I don't know if I'm happy with this chapter, but if I read through it one more time I know I won't post it, so here we go.

Until next time.

-Inks


	12. That Room

Frank choked on his lunch, and shook his head in despair. Why couldn't he just have _nice,_ well mannered children, who ate quietly and didn't ask him questions that he did _not_ want to answer? Chewing on the obstruction in his mouth, he sent a glare to his two boys' who were grinning in a clearly anticipatory fashion. Swallowing with difficulty, he threw down a considerable glug of water. He was clearly stalling, and his offspring's knew it, which only made their grins even wider.

"Come on pops," Jamie sniggered, "you said you would tell us. You're not going to renege on us now, are you?" He turned to a snorting Danny with a feigned sombre expression. "What kind of message do you think that sends?" he asked loudly, "I mean, would _you_ back out on a promise to Jack and Sean?"

Chuckling slightly _evilly,_ Danny shook his head slowly. "Nope, I wouldn't. Because I'm a _responsible_ father, and I know things like that can be hugely damaging to the whole father-son psyche, which could manifest itself in a worrying manner in their adolescence." He finished with a smug little nod, made even smugger by the now shocked expressions on his little brother's and old man's faces. "Did you….did you read a _book_?" Jamie asked eventually, snorting at the hilarity of it.

Before Danny could punch his shoulder, Frank cleared his throat warningly.

"Boys…just eat your lunch, can't you?" he muttered wearily, "you're going to put me in an early grave." His pleas weren't answered, as he knew they wouldn't be. Two heads merely shook in the unified negative, and he cursed his stupidity in mentioning the origins of that damned room in the first place. Especially in front of Jamie, the kid was like a dog with a bone. Wiping his face delicately with a napkin, he arched a bushy brow in their collective direction.

"Sooner you tell us, sooner it's over with dad," Danny grinned, revelling in his methodical thinking. If there was one thing that Frank Reagan couldn't argue with, it was methodical thinking. He lived and breathed for damned _methodical thinking_. Grumbling under his breath, the eldest Reagan let out a massive sigh and glared half-heartedly at his children. "Clearly I didn't do a good enough job back there," he muttered darkly, "I'll remember that for the next time."

The grins instantly slipped off of his two's faces and he snorted in victory.

"Not so funny now, is it?" he chuckled, but swallowing his joviality when the expectant grins bounced back onto their faces. "Listen, dad," Jamie began reasonably, "you know we're not going to let it go, but if you _want…_ we can get _Erin_ to question you. You know how _skilled_ she is at getting answers, right? Plus," he shrugged devishly, "she's your favourite, so you might feel more _comfortable_ opening up to her."

Beside him, Danny was now shaking with silent laughter as Frank glared with a ferocity that would sour milk. "I don't have _favourites,"_ he growled, and threw his eyes up the heaven when the two looked at him with raised brows and racking laughter. God…wasn't a man allowed to dote on his only daughter now?

He heaved a huge sigh, and gestured towards the door.

"Go away," he mumbled weakly, "go away and do….policing type things. I beg you."

The two Reagan boys' exchanged mischievous looks, before turning back to their father. "You know," Danny sputtered, "if you don't want to tell us, and you don't want to tell Erin…I _guess_ we could just ask pops….you know how he _loves_ to talk about the good old days." He nudged a giggling Jamie in the ribs. "Isn't that right? "

"So right," the youngest offspring agreed between bouts of laughter, massaging his stinging rib.

Frank's eyes widened.

"You wouldn't do that to me," he bluffed cautiously, "I am your _father."_

"God, I wish one of us was called Luke," Jamie muttered under his breath, as Danny shook with mirth beside him. Shaking his head in askance at the pair, Frank suddenly regretted being so hard on Garrett. These two…had _ways_ of getting their _own_ way. Throwing down the last of his sandwich in defeat, he growled lowly in his throat.

" _Fine,"_ he snapped churlishly, which just made his kids laugh all the more, "you get _one_ story. And I mean _one…._ so, go on then. What's your poison? But, just so you're crystal clear. The next time your birthdays' roll around, I am going to make a _holy show_ of you. Of _both_ of you. So be warned, I won't forget."

The two didn't miss a beat.

 _"The one with you and pops in that room."_

Frank blinked.

His oldest and youngest were nothing alike, and now they spoke in some bizarre unified chorus? Shaking his head, he tried, reluctantly to cast his mind back to the last time PC Henry Reagan and Detective Frank Reagan were alone in that room together. He felt his brows crease. This _wasn't_ a memory he wanted to bring back up, or dwell on. Hell, he could almost feel the phantom pain in his butt where that damned paddle had laded. His sympathy for _his_ two, went right out the window however.

He'd give it one last go.

Just one last go.

"C'mon fellas," he smiled, "it's much too much of a nice a day to be stuck inside a stuffy office talking about irrelevant things. Why don't we go see can we catch a game somewhere? My treat. What do you say, huh?"

The two fixed him with such stern looks, it was like looking in a mirror.

"Start talking, dad," Danny intoned, backed up by the dramatically sanctimonious nod his little brother offered. Cursed by his sense of dependability and his adherence to his own word, Frank threw his hands and eyes up the heaven and hissed in defeat. "You two are out of the will," he growled, "Erin, Nicky, Linda, Sean and Jack will get everything.

This statement, heard many a time before, had absolutely no effect. As he knew it wouldn't.

Sighing, he dredged up the memory that was required, and settling back into his chair, reluctantly set about recounting it.

 _****Flashback*****_

PC Henry Reagan stormed up and down the carpet of his opulent office and tried in vain to get his anger under control. He'd been top brass for five years, and _nothing_ in those five years, from an army of blue, had caused him as much ire as this _one_ officer had just brought about. That one officer, being his one and only son. Of course it would be his son, who else?

Frank Reagan had always been one headstrong, stubborn kid. To his father's mix of pride and dismay, he'd carried that trait with him all the way into adulthood, like the words most obstinate dog and his bone. Growling in his throat, and sending his secretary running for the hills in the process, he irritably checked his pocket watch.

He had about ten minutes before the kid got here, and he _needed_ to use those ten minutes to calm down, else Frank Reagan would never see a chair the same way again. Breathing in and out deeply the way Betty had taught him when dealing with their stubborn offspring, he paced some more and felt himself gain control of his being once more.

His son, his decorated officer, had shown all the common sense of a waterlogged plank out in the field. He had placed himself in immediate danger, by disobeying the chain of command, and doing things his _own_ way. Walking into that convenience store, without back up, in the middle of an armed raid conducted by psychopathic burglars, in as _asinine_ attempt to rescue the cashier, was heroic sure, but it was still _stupid._

He had placed his neck on the line, when it didn't need to be.

When it really should _not_ have been. The SWAT team were literally two and a half minutes out, and they would have handled the situation. That was their place, and their role. It was _not_ the role of a freshly minted, apparently _brainless_ NYPD detective.

Henry's heart heaved with the fear that still resided there as one of his Captain's had recounted the day's events for him. He could see it all, oh so clearly, in his mind's eye. The storming through the chain of command, the complete and utter lack of regard for his own safety, and protocol. The terse negotiations, the near miss, the arrival of SWAT to save the kid's sorry ass. The infuriated commanding officer, the irate phone call to his office.

The whole nine yards.

He focussed on his breathing again. He thanked Betty again in his inner mind. If she hadn't taught him this miraculous breathing, he was quite sure he would have been dead and buried by now. Just as he was taking in another sweet, soothing breath, a rap on the door came. Casting a fond farewell to the beginnings of peace he was feeling, Henry closed his eyes and barked out an order to enter.

Striding through the door, twenty nine year old Frank Reagan had the _minute_ common sense required to look abashed, and ashamed of himself. Henry knew instantly that he had already been pretty well chewed out, and made a mental note to drop a thank you in the direction of the kid's commanding officer. Storming to sit on the side of his desk, he pointed to the carpet right in front of him.

"Get your ass over here," he growled, savouring the relief he felt that his boy still had two legs, two arms and a healthy heartbeat. He watched as his offspring moved guiltily to his appointed spot, and stared firmly at the floor. Henry breathed out slowly. It could have all been so different. So _very_ different…if SWAT hadn't gotten there when they did.

"Eyes up, and on me son," he commanded quietly, and waited for the compliance he knew would come. One look in his boy's eyes, and he knew that there would be no need for a protracted lecture. Frank already knew he'd done wrong, and what he'd done wrong. Still, he had a _few_ choice words for the kid, and he was going to hear them. Needs must, or needs not.

He was going to hear them.

"I cannot believe you Frank Reagan," he began softly, which the younger Reagan knew instantly was indicative of a deep anger. "You could have been killed, you could have gotten that cashier killed, and you could have gotten your fellow _cops_ killed. You broke the chain of command, spat on _all_ protocol known to man and behaved like a complete and utter _buffoon."_

Frank remained quiet. There was nothing he could counter in that summation.

It was damned accurate.

"Would you like to be the one to break your mother's heart, Frank?" Henry continued, his voice softening further, much to his son's dismay. "Would you like your mother to be the one to organise your funeral, hmm? Would you like your mother to be the one to identify your sorry ass at the morgue? Is that what you want, hmm?" Do you really _want_ me to have to go home, and say 'hey, Betty…Frank won't be around for Sunday dinner, he just died from an acute case of _stupidity?"_

His son whitened and looked about fit to pass out at his words, and Henry sighed deeply.

He _loathed_ this part of the job. Both the father's and PC's role had this component, and he _despised_ it.

"What punishment did your CO give you?" he asked quietly, watching as his kid prepared to open his mouth for the first time since he'd entered his office. "He…" Frank began, his voice nothing like his usual confident tones, and for a moment it was like looking at the teenaged Frank who'd been busted cutting class again. "He…gave me a two week rip, and desk duty for two weeks when I'm back."

There was a silence as Henry nodded approvingly.

"Are we in full agreement that you deserve every single part of that young man?"

Frank blushed heavily.

"Yes sir," he muttered miserably. Really, what _else_ could he say?

He felt his father's gaze on him, scorching hot, as he surveyed his shoes. Snapping his head up at the sound of his voice, he felt his heart plummet. The "follow me," order, had a certain ominous ring to it, and he knew that his father was….old fashioned, in terms of handling disobedience. Whether he was nine or twenty nine, he knew it didn't really matter to his old man.

Following slowly, as his father strode to a door in his office he never really noticed before, he gulped as they emerged in a labyrinth of corridors and doors. His dad didn't glance back at him, save for holding the door open for him, and Frank knew better than to open his mouth. His eyes roved the never before seen internal mines of one PP. Suddenly, they came to an abrupt halt, and his dad threw open a door and jerked his head at him to enter.

Biting his lip, Frank did as he was told, reluctantly. Hearing the door snap and _lock_ behind him, he gulped further. They were clearly in some kind of super secret conference room, one that a lowly detective would never enter through official channels. There were no windows, and Frank instantly knew there were no cameras and that the room was sound proofed.

His heart sank.

He stared at the long, expansive conference table as Henry strode to, and rooted around in a far off filing cabinet. When Frank looked up at what his father held, his heart descended all the way into hell. Backing up, he held up his hands in pointless defence. "Dad…no," he whined, feeling his face heat up at the plaintive tone, "please…I've _been_ punished….come on?"

Henry shook his head slowly, as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and rolled up his right sleeve.

"Not by me you haven't son," he muttered quietly, despising what he was about to do. "You know the rules kid, putting your life in danger…is _not_ something I will tolerate, no matter _how_ old you are, and no matter _how_ many days you ride a desk. I'm your _father…._ and I will not see you hurt, because I didn't do everything I could to keep you on the straight and narrow."

His face crumpled for a moment, and Frank instantly felt ill with guilt.

"I can't lose you, son," Henry all but whispered, "I can't see your mother go through the pain of losing you. I just…I just can't, Francis, I really can't."

All the colour drained from the youngest Reagan's face, as he slowly shrugged out of _his_ suit jacket. Looking his father in the eye as he threw it over a nearby chair, his eyes were brimming with regret. "I'm sorry dad," he croaked out, "I'm really, really sorry…"

Striding around the room, Henry reached out and squeezed his kid's shoulder proudly. "I know you are bud," he murmured, "so how about we just get this done, and put this all behind us? Ok?" Nodding instantly, Frank turned and eyed the table apprehensively, but made to bend over it without further instruction. His father's voice halted him, and he turned expectantly.

"Lose the pants, son," the PC ordered, feeling ill with reluctance, "I need to make sure this is a lesson you don't forget." Frank groaned quietly, before fumbling with the clasp on his pants and letting his suit slacks fall to the floor.

With one hand on the small of his son's back, and the other raising the paddle high, both Detective and PC Reagan steeled themselves.

 _….In the present, Frank drew in a much needed breath._

"You two happy _now?"_ he grunted, feeling a flush of long ago seeping its way through his cheeks, staining them with long forgotten embarrassment. He watched as Danny and Jamie gaped at each other, before turning to him with matching looks of accusatory shock on their faces.

"What?" Frank muttered, feeling decidedly confused.

His kid's exchanged one last look of outrage, before turning to him once more, and speaking in this new fangled unison they seemed to have going on.

"You punished us for the _exact_ same thing _just last year!"_

Frank stared, before snorting somewhat and throwing his hands up to heaven in defeat. When he spoke, his voice was raspy from all his talking, but it held a certain note of laughter.

"Hindsight boys, she's a powerful thing."

….

TBC

….

A/N: I've never really written a flashback scene fully before, so please bear with me!

Until next time.

-Inks


	13. Of Calls and Concerns

Some months later, and Sunday dinner was in full swing at the Reagan household. All heads were bowed into their respective plates, as a war thundered on around them. The usual war. The Nikki v Erin war. A war they had _all_ learned to keep their noses well out of. Even Jack and Sean stared determinedly at their potatoes as the college fanfare roared around them. She was going to Stanford, no she was going to Harvard. But was wrong with Columbia? Rinse and repeat….rinse and repeat.

Danny looked sideways at Linda and the silent look was communication enough.

 _Thank god for boys._

Frank and Henry exchanged looks, but continued to throw food down their mouths. As did Jamie.

No one was fool enough to intervene.

Until Jamie's phone did the intervening for them. Shrilling in his pocket and drawing his father's ire, Jamie stood and excused himself hurriedly. Before going all the way _outside_ to answer the call. Frank's moustache danced in the wake of his sigh. This was about the third dinner where his youngest's cell would shriek, and the kid would pale, before darting from the room to answer.

He had tried asking nicely.

Nothing.

He had tried asking…more forcefully.

Still nothing.

And now…as he stared at the cooling dinner of the youngest Reagan offspring, he shook his head slightly and felt completely at a loss. It wasn't like Jamie to be so damned _secretive._ That was more Erin and Danny's shtick. The war about college applications drowned out the absence of Jamie, and Frank was left in the cover it provided to puzzle some more over his son.

He was… _irritable_ these days.

Which, didn't sound all that strange when one said it out loud. Everyone had their moments, but Jamie was flawlessly mild mannered. He always had an easy smile and a kind word. People gravitated to him like bees to pollen, attracted by his calming demeanour. Now…he was nearly as hot headed as Danny. And the two boy's had gone at it just last week when Jamie had taken offence to something he never would have a month or so ago.

His meatloaf ran a little drier in his mouth as he chewed both on it and his thoughts.

It made no sense.

There had been no emotional upheaval in his youngest's life, that he knew about anyway. There had been no beginning or ending of a relationship, discreet inquiries at the office let him know Jamie's career was as perfect as it could be. He'd really gotten on top of his financial worries recently and to top it all of he'd been racing through his sergeant's exam prep.

And yet….the kid seemed miserable.

The door creaked open at that moment, and Jamie slipped back into the room, unnoticed in the roar of Columbia v Yale. Throwing himself back into his seat, oblivious or uncaring to the extent of his father's gaze upon him, Jamie stabbed his food viciously with his fork. Feeling a familiar weariness set in, Frank's patience with the bickering around him finally came to an end.

"Enough," he barked, "I don't want to hear any more of this conversation at the dinner table. Enough is enough." He noticed that Jamie didn't even raise his head at his words, but Erin and Nicky instantly gave on last glare at each other and desisted, much to everyone's relief. Seeing that everyone had finished their plates, Frank stood.

"Jamie, come help me with the dessert please son."

As general chatter resumed around the table and plates were placed to and fro, the youngest Reagan stood with a barely concealed scowl and snatched the stack of plates Danny held out to him. Shooting her husband a warning look and resting a warning hand on his arm, the oldest Reagan bit back the snappy retort that had flown to his tongue.

He didn't know the deal was.

But his kid brother was being a royal pain in the ass recently.

He had tried inviting him out for a beer to see what was up, before being refused. With a snarl no less. He had tried inviting him to the boy's baseball game, of which he rarely missed those he could attend. This had also been refused. Also with a snarl. He had tried asking outright just what in the hell was the matter, before being told to mind his own business if he knew what was good for him.

It was _very_ un-Jamieish behaviour and frankly Danny was baffled. A brief collaboration with both his father, grandfather and Erin revealed similar findings. Everyone noted the change in the baby of the family's demeanour, but no-one could uncover the source. Despite the strong pool of investigative skill between them all.

No one could get close.

And everyone was worried.

Especially Frank, and as he watched his son scrape plates vigorously before tossing them into the sink, his worry increased. The posture of the boy was as rigid as he had ever seen, and the twinkle that was usually in his eyes had been replaced by a dull lifelessness that made every paternal fibre in the Commissioners being radiate with apprehension.

Placing his stack of plates down, and rooting in the fridge for the pavlova he thought rapidly. He wasn't used to his apprehension in talking to any of his kids, but Jamie was so volatile these days the smallest of ill placed words could send him off into the deep end. Withdrawing the teetering meringue base, he set it on the counter and took in a deep breath.

"So…how's your week been son?" he asked softly, setting out plates beside the dessert.

There.

Nice and simple.

Nothing that could be misconstrued or-

"Why?" Jamie hissed between clenched teeth, "do you want to run another secret check on my job performance? Because you can just ask me if you want to know anything about how I do my job, Commissioner."

Frank felt his eye lids droop like a wilted elderflower.

"No," he exhaled slowly, "I didn't run a _secret_ check on you, I-"

A particularly loud clanging of some of his best Sunday dinnerware cut him off and he internally thanked god that Mary wasn't there to see her china being so dreadfully manhandled. His patience, however misinterpreted by the outside world, was beginning to take a hit. Pinching the bridge of his nose he soothed himself for a moment before opening his mouth.

"Look, son…there is _obviously_ something bothering you. You're like a bag of nails recently and all these secret phone calls…is there something the matter? You know, I could help…if you'd just talk to me. Or one of your siblings at least…" He shot an uncharacteristically pleading looking at his youngest. "C'mon Jamie, this…isn't like you. Let me help?"

There was silence for a moment as the younger man merely stared at the glasses in his hands, his brows creased heavily. A palpable sense of uneasiness and confliction radiated off him and it was all Frank could do to resist pulling him in for a hug. The silence persisted for a further second, before the sandy brown head suddenly jerked in the negative. The fleeting spark of vulnerability and openness faded from the blue eyes, to be replaced the hard cover of anger once more.

"There is nothing wrong," the kid gritted out, slamming the glasses into the sink, "and I'd appreciate it if you could _stop_ treating me like a helpless infant. I don't need you to… _fix_ anything. I can look after my own business, if that's ok with you."

Frank felt his own eyes widen in shock.

This was just so unlike Jamie it made his head hurt.

Suddenly the phone was shrilling in the boy's shirt pocket once more and his already ashen face turned an even more deathly shade of pale. Instinctively moving a step closer to his son, Frank was chagrined when he took an equal step back. Fishing the phone out his pocket, and glancing down at the message that was obviously displaying on the screen, what little blood flow that was in Jamie's face instantly drained.

Frank felt his own complexion begin to match that of his son's.

"Jamie," he murmured softly, reaching for the kid's shoulder only to be left grasping at air. "Stop it…just tell me what's going on, who's texting you? What's been going on with you? _Talk_ to me son and I will help you."

Looking up from the phone, the younger man was silent for a moment before dreadfully hollow laughter fell out of his slight frame and his head shook with an almost bemused gate. Stuffing the cell back into his pocket, he ran a hand through his hair in distracted agitation before suddenly darting for the back door.

With a speed that made Frank's eyes bulge.

His hand resting on the handle, the youngest Reagan looked at his father with eyes so wide they were saucer like.

"No one can help me."

…and then he was gone.

….

TBC

….

A/N: I know I haven't updated in a while, but life has been extremely full on! Should be more regular from here on in.

Thanks for reading.

-Inks.


	14. Me, Myself and Dean

As the door vibrated sadly with the force of its closing, Frank exhaled sharply. Whatever fears, or niggling thoughts he'd had about his son's strange behaviour, they were nothing compared to the fear that gripped him now. He'd been around the block more times than he'd ever care to admit, but he also knew each of his kid's inside and out. And right now, he knew Jamie was terrified. And his youngest didn't scare easy, which made his terror all the more terrifying. The patented moustache quivered under the weight of his anxiety as he leaned heavily against the counter.

He felt old.

Really old.

For all his years on the beat and his natural intuition, he was at a bit of a loss. Jamie knew how to cover his tracks if he wanted to, and it didn't take a genius to know whatever the kid had gotten himself into, he wanted his family to know nothing of it. Frank felt his forehead crinkle with stress as he thought rapidly. Could his youngest be on the receiving end of criminal intimidation? Had he crossed the wrong dirtbag in a recent case? What in the _hell_ was going on with him?

For a brief, fleeting moment Frank was struck by the horrible notion that the kid had gone undercover again, of his own accord and of his own investigation. He sucked in a sharp breath and firmly dismissed the idea. He'd torn his youngest a new one for that escapade a few months back, and Jamie didn't tend to make the same mistakes twice. The din of the chatter in the living room was still raucous, and he knew he needed to put a face on his worry.

Nikki, Jack and Sean were in there.

But he needed help.

To help his youngest, he needed his eldest.

Grabbing an armful of plates and a teetering bowl of desert, he pushed his way back through to the living room. He set the whole lot down with a wide, avuncular smile and laughed along with whatever joke Sean was telling. But inside, his gut was churning. Setting a plate down in front of Danny, he leaned over him on the pretence of dishing out cutlery. No one but him heard the quiet murmuring, and true to his ability to adapt to any situation, Danny didn't skip a beat as he ruffled his son's hair at his punch line.

But when Frank announced casually that he was going to start the coffee, Danny stood and offered his assistance, quickly striding after his father before a break in the conversation could be noticed. The door shutting behind them, and the chatter continuing, Danny turned to face the eldest Reagan with a raised brow and a moderate to intense huff, crossing his arms across his chest.

"What have I done now then?"

Frank met his brow raise, and then some.

"Why do you think you've done something?"

Danny oozed scepticism.

"Because when you call me in here for a private _chat_ , it usually means you're about to chew me out."

Frank spluttered in laugher for a moment, giving his son his due. The kitchen had seen more than its fair share of heated discussions. "Fair enough," he conceded, "but no. This time, it's about your brother and I need your help. You game?"

"The kid?" Danny echoed slowly, "the same kid who's been giving me crap for the last couple of weeks? That one?" He shook his head with a jerk. "You must be joking pop, Jamie's been a royal pain in my ass and I'm not feeling all that inclined to help his scrawny little neck."

The reproving look that was sent his way had made men twice his age quiver on the job.

"He is your brother," Frank reprimanded quietly, "your younger brother at that. I know he hasn't been himself and hasn't exactly been all that pleasant lately, but he is still your bother and you're going to stand there and tell me you don't care about what's wrong with him?" Before Danny could even reply, Frank's glower deepened. "What about all the times that boy has covered for your ass with me? You think I don't know that the scratch on my best vinyl last year was _you_ and _not_ him?"

His eldest had the grace and the common sense to look suitably abashed.

"Alright, alright," he spluttered, "I'll help the damned kid; you don't need to write a sermon about it."

Frank's face softened. "Thanks son, now…to be honest, I haven't a damned clue what's wrong with him. Not a notion. So, this isn't the time for covering for him. If you know something, you need to tell me and you need to tell me now. Is there something…he's gotten himself into, something I should know about?"

Danny was the picture of innocence.

Because for once, he actually _was_ innocent.

"I don't know anything dad," he replied seriously, "I swear, I don't."

Frank ran x-ray gaze over his eldest for a moment and gave a determinative nod. The truth was written all over Danny's face, he truly had no idea what in the world was going on with his brother. The two men stared at each other for a moment, each feeling the same bite of helplessness. Each had thought the other must know something about Jamie's erratic behaviour, and now that it was apparent that neither had a notion, both were rather baffled.

"So what do we do?" Danny asked quietly; worry beginning to brim inside him as he took in his father's concerned face. Truthfully he'd thought Jamie was just being an ass, and needed a kick up the same and a talking to. Now, he knew that that had been a mistake. He had tried to help the kid, but he'd allowed his wounded feeling at Jamie's snapping rejection to colour his perception of reality.

He suddenly felt a bit sick.

"I don't know," Frank grunted, running a hand through his hair, "he won't tell me a damned thing. I've run a check at the precinct, and nothing came up. It has to be something personal, not work related. It has to be…"

Danny didn't know if it was him or himself his dad was trying to convince.

"Sure," he echoed weakly, seized by the sudden fear that Jamie would have had somehow had the complete and utter idiocy to conduct yet another maverick undercover op, "it has to be personal…."

They stared at each for another moment, each feeling the tide of stress rise within them.

"Has to be…"

Several miles away, and in a much more intense state of distress, Jamie Reagan stood at the side of a previously designated block. His hands were cloaked in an uncharacteristic sheen of perspiration. His fair hair flopped into his face with limpness. His heart raced as he tried to appear as nonchalant as the Sunday stragglers that passed him on their merry way. It was a losing battle as guilt flooded him as he remembered his father's pained face at his venomous words.

He couldn't bring himself to admit it, but right now, he really wanted his dad.

And he wanted Danny.

But, he knew he couldn't have them. He couldn't involve them. If they found out who he was…who his family was…they'd all be in jeopardy. He couldn't risk that. He frowned as he ran through the mental calculations in his head once more. He felt himself pale once more under the weight of them, their unchangeable, unshakable consistency.

He didn't have it.

They thought he did.

They'd be coming for it and him soon, and his ability to breathe depended on his ability to perfect his bluff.

He'd never been great at bluffing though, and he couldn't see how this would be any different. The extent of his troubles hit him in the face as he waited on the cold corner and he felt his gut churn. He'd done stupid things before, many times actually, but this took the biscuit. This really, really took the whole damned biscuit tin. There was no way out, only through.

His only relief was a double edged sword.

He thought about it, and was mulling it over still as the car, tinted and armoured sailed up out of nothingness beside him. Taking a deep breath, he put on his game face and perfected his cocky walk as he reached for the door handle. His grin, to those who knew him would have screamed "help me,", but these people didn't know him.

To them, he was Dean McAdams. A regular old New Yorker, a wanderer with no ties and no family.

And that was a small part of his relief, his anonymity, because it protected his family and it protected the force. This was…a purely personal matter, albeit one that had gone heinously wrong, but the media would always find some way to make it a police one.

But the major part of his two pronged relief was decidedly more poignant.

If these people killed him….which was a very real and distinct possibility…..it carried one benefit.

It would at least spare his poor father from murdering him with his own hands when the truth came out.

As the door slammed behind him, Jamie looked into the face of the man who'd been haunting his every waking and sleeping moment.

"Hello hello Dean," the much older man crooned in a greasy greeting, "and how are _you_ today?"

Jamie swallowed imperceptibly.

"Forgive me," the crooning man added jovially before an answer could be given, "I forget myself."

He tilted his head to the side, and bared a set of yellowing, crooked teeth in a trademark feral grin.

"I should be saying…." he paused to scratch his chin thoughtfully, "oh…what it _is_ it again? I forget things you see, youngster, being a bit older. Oh…what was it now…oh wait, wait I _have_ it…"

He bared those teeth in his terrifying lip curl once more.

"I _should_ be saying hello to… _Officer Jamie Reagan,_ shouldn't I?"

He chuckled as the youngest member of the first family of law enforecement immediately paled a painful white.

He spread his arms wide and the two men on either side of Jamie laughed quietly to themselves.

"How's your pop?"

…..

TBC

…..

A/N: Final chapter of this story up soon!

-Inks


	15. Anger of Alfie

Whatever small relief Jamie had held onto, that his family and the job wouldn't be damaged immediately dissipated. Walking up groggily from the blow he'd received not long after revelations had been revealed, he winced and tasted blood. His body clock suggested he'd been out for about an hour, as did the throbbing behind his eyes and ears. He'd been made, well and truly made and now, his only chance at survival was to use his silver tongue to the best of his ability. "Took you long enough, didn't it?" he opened with an audacious wink, and a conversational tone. His stomach was churning. He had left his father so abruptly; his only hope was the old man would think to trace his cell.

Which wouldn't save him per se...

But it would ultimately be a kinder death, and indeed, a decent burial to boot.

"Plucky little copper aren't you?" the British-American thug crooned, his yellow teeth gleaming in the dim light. "You know, at first I thought I was going to have a nice quiet evening. Dinner with the misses, breaking your bones, then _more_ dinner with the misses. But…well, it's all changed now hasn't it Jamie? My dear boy? Far be it for little old me to look a gift horse in the mouth."

The youngest Reagan, who was focussing extremely hard on his breathing merely glowered. Which wasn't easy, considering he was in the unmerciful clutches of a much sought after criminal. One the NYPD had been chasing, fruitlessly, for years.

"You can imagine my surprise, can't you Jamie?" the infamous Alfie continued, "That instead of setting an example over a reneged twenty large debt, I get the Police Commissioner of New York's baby boy in my lap. I mean," he clapped his hands gleefully and looked around at his henchmen, who dutifully guffawed, "It's like an early Christmas lads."

The beady eyes narrowed with menace.

"You may not know this, clearly you didn't know who you were getting into bed with when you took financial assistance from my ahh… _enterprise._ That's why I use young lads like yourself to do my street budding Jamie, stupid gels with stupid oh so very well. But, I digress. You need to understand the reason for my joy. It's not just because you're the PC's boy, oh no…it's because you Jamie, have the misfortune, to be the offspring of _Frank Flaming Reagan."_

It didn't take a genius to see the suppressed rage and malice shimmering under the surface.

Jamie, if it was possible, began to feel even sicker.

"You see, little Reagan, your father and I…we're not exactly what you'd call pal's. We could have been, but oh no…your _dear daddy_ is a right stickler for the rules isn't he sport? Doesn't believe in the old ways, a handshake and an understanding here and there. That…penchant, Jamie... that stick in the mud attitude of your old man is the reason _my_ old man is dead."

Jamie felt the bottom of his stomach fall out.

This was beyond bad.

This was as bad as it could possibly be.

But he had to keep it the hell together.

"What makes you think I didn't know, Alfie?" he countered as confidently as he could, "You honestly think I actually needed that loan?" He managed a superior chuckle. "Like you said, I'm a Reagan, we're not exactly millionaires, but we're not exactly poor either. It was an in. My partner, sergeant and even my dear daddy as you put it, know exactly where I am." He took a breath. "And exactly who I'm with, so…by all means, put a price on your head and have every cop in the city on your case, and your case alone."

His heart was hammering painfully and he was fighting wildly to keep it together.

"Whatever you do to me… will be worth if it means the end of your operation."

Alfie leered with a snarl. "Don't take me for a fool boy," he motioned to their oddly insulated confines, "No GPS tracking within these four walls. Even if your pops has joined us in the twenty first century, it won't do him, or you, any good." The effort it took to keep his face neutral was mammoth, but somehow, Jamie managed with an additional shrug of nonchalance.

"Like I said, it doesn't matter. You know the game Alfie, a cop goes down…and it's never forgotten. This is just the catalyst needed to take you and your pathetic little enterprise down."

Silence reigned for a moment as the snarling criminal considered that issue. "You know," he muttered, almost to himself, and Jamie caught a distinct Manchester accent, "You're a right chip of the old block, aren't you? An earnest little do-gooder with no sense of self worth. You're ready to hand yourself up for the slaughter for the good of the _community."_

He laughed eerily, and even his dumb and dumber protection detail shuddered.

"My old man…all he wanted was a little favour, and your old man would have been well paid. Simple segregation in the big house. See, the Russians had a little bit of beef with him and all he needed was a bit of discretion. If the wonderful Frank Reagan had a simple word in the ear of the prison warden, my father would be alive today. But…oh no, not precious Frankie huh? Not the straight arrow."

He snorted in disgust.

"Well…I daresay he might shake off the shackles of his conscience when his baby boy arrives home piece by piece…" he chuckled once more, "Priority postage of course, we must preserve the special treatment for the Royal Reagans."

A cold sweat was beginning to break out and trickle sluggishly down the back of Jamie's neck. He'd heard his dad talking about this before, the bribe he'd turned down, and the resultant death that ensued. He also recalled his father being torn up about it for a while, before his grandfather had helped him see that he was in no way responsible for the death of scumbag senior. But…this was even worse that he had originally thought. Alfie was more criminally sophisticated than he imagined, not that he had imagined he was at the helm of what he thought was his loan shark problem.

He couldn't believe he'd been so freaking stupid.

This was literally the stupidest thing he had ever done in his entire life.

And now it was going to cost him his life, slowly and painfully. The sacrificial lamb to the mumbling, vengeance driven lunatic who was sizing him up like a joint of meat. He didn't doubt the truthfulness of the van's protection against GPS tracking. His cell felt like a leaden and useless brick in his pocket. Not that it was a certain bet anyway. He'd been snapping and snarling at his family for so long they were probably finishing off their Sunday dinner in peace, relieved his temperamental presence had been withdrawn from the household.

He was alone.

And there was no way out. There was no talking his way out of this, he could instantly sense that. He was a gift, an unexpected and wonderful gift, and he was going to be used and abused until he disintegrated. The armed goons were flanking either side of the door, and there was a steel barrier between them and the driver.

There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

He was determined not to show fear.

He would not give him that.

"Whatever you think my father is responsible for," he said icily, as the van stalled at a red light, "and whatever you plan to do to me…will never bring your dad back. You get that, right? All it's going to do is land you in a similar cell to daddy dearest and well…" he somehow managed a confident smirk, "the Russians aren't exactly known for their done and dusted approach, are they? You'll be every bit as fair game as Alfie Senior was, and you'll meet the same end. Your kind always do."

He sucked in a deep breath, hoping if he provoked the lunatic enough, his end would be swift.

"And life will go on Alfie, and no one will mourn you, just like no one mourned your useless father."

He saw the hand reach for the weapon, and the command for the double act to stand down.

Clearly he was to be his kill, and his kill alone.

"I can only hope that you haven't bred, Alfie that the stain of your family name will die with you. That no more of your kind will infest the streets of New York again. If my death brings about that, then so be it. I'll be remembered, you won't. You'll be buried in an unmarked and unvisited grave, the cheapest the state can source. So…all in all, I'd say you still lose, Alfie. Live like a loser, and die like a loser…" he managed once more laugh without a note of amusement. "Thank god I was born into my family, and not into yours…and thank god I'm a chip of my old man's block, and not yours."

He stared into the eyes of his soon to be killer.

"Say hello to the Russians for me."

The sneer was a foaming once. Rage spat across the thin lips of the thug as he raised his weapon, and pointed it squarely between the eyes of the youngest Reagan. A breath of victory was inhaled, and a stubby finger caressed the trigger with love, vibrating along with the still stalled van's gentle engine.

And that was when all hell broke loose.

The sliding door to the right of Jamie was suddenly wrenched open was with an ear splitting shriek. The two startled, bordering on downright stunned guards were seized around the necks and ripped from their perches. They never saw it coming. His mind suddenly catching up with him, Jamie threw himself on the floor of the van, shielding his head and finding scant cover behind a small tower of tool boxes. A confused haze of voices showered him as he lay there, and his heart pounded so fast he was sure it was pumping out air instead of blood.

A scuffle could be faintly heard and then, silence.

A deafening silence.

All of a sudden he was seized be the shoulders, and he instinctively kicked out furiously whilst keeping his arms wrapped around his head. Another shower of disjointed voices showered him, and he struggled viciously against the hold that encased him. Until…he recognised a voice through the din and instantly stilled.

It couldn't be…

His captor seized his moment of confusion to turn him on his back and prise his hands away from his face. Blinking rapidly and choking on his own breath, Jamie's eyes flew open painfully. Three very familiar faces gazed down at him. Spluttered as he was heaved to his feet, he shook his head slowly, trying to accept what he was seeing.

The terrified faces of Frank Reagan, Danny Reagan and Sergeant Tony Renzulli.

They ran expert gazes over him and determined that he was physically unhurt save for what was the alarming bruise blossoming on his face and the dried blood that came with it. And that…was then their expressions changed. Danny's eyes instantly darkened with a burning rage, as did Renzulli's. Frank's anger was slower to onset, but it was a simmering cauldron of fury that Jamie had rarely seen in all his years as a Reagan. Throwing out an arm against the chest of his eldest to stop his advance upon his youngest, Frank shook his head.

"You two. Out and assist back up. I want all four of these pieces of filth, alive, and in a neutral precinct in the next half hour."

Knowing it was probably for the best, but dearly liking to wring his brother's neck there and then, Danny nodded stiffly and motioned for Renzulli to follow him. They both left Jamie with a burning glare that left him in no doubt as to their feelings on the current matter. So dazed was the rescued Jamie that he barely took them in.

"How…how did you find me?"

As the retreating backs of the two police officers hopped out of the van, Frank shook his head slowly and laid large hands on each of his son's shoulders.

"I think…" he murmured with a terrifying and quiet fury, "the more appropriate question is, how will they find your body when I am through with you."

Jamie gulped a painfully dry gulp.

"You are going to the hospital for a once over-"

"Dad, I don't need to do that," Jamie interrupted, feeling physically unharmed. "I feel fine."

Frank increased the hold on his son's shoulders slightly.

"You feel fine?"

Jamie nodded nervously.

"Oh good," Frank muttered silkily, "Because fine is the last thing you're going to feel when I'm done with you. You are going to the hospital with Danny, and then he is bringing you home. You will wait there, you will not leave. I have things to smooth out, and then I will be home, and believe me when I tell you, I intend on getting answers. I intend on dealing with you…thoroughly, in a way you'll never forget. Do you understand me?"

Jamie quailed under his father's furious gaze. He was willing to bet the old man already had all the answers. His father hadn't looked at him like that since the disastrous, unauthorised undercover operation he had pulled many months ago.

He suddenly thought that maybe a trip to the hospital wasn't such a bad idea.

Frank's eyes narrowed, and his voice was the dangerously calm one all his children knew spelt trouble.

Major, nuclear level trouble.

"Jamison Reagan, I asked you if you understood me?"

There was a deathly silence between father and son, before a shadow of a voice filled the van's confines.

"Yes sir."

….

A/N: Found there was too much tie up to squeeze into one chapter. Next chapter will be up within a week and will be the last one. Thanks for reading.

…..


	16. Mopping up the Mob

Jamie stared around the confines of his old room. He could hear low murmurings drifting up from downstairs, and instantly knew it was his grandfather trying to placate his brother. Two murderously slow hours at the hospital, followed by the longest commute home in living memory, and yet his usually very verbose sibling hadn't uttered a word. He'd carefully steered him into the ER department, and vehemently demanded speedy medical attention for him, but that was the extent of his speech.

Jamie swallowed.

Danny was rarely, if ever, rendered speechless. If that was how he felt…then the youngest Reagan dreaded to think how their more methodical and simmering father was feeling. Remembering the collision course of emotion that had played across the commissioner's face in that van made the young cop feel queasy. There was no explaining his way out of this, with or without a Harvard law degree. Sighing, he threw himself back on the bed and wondered how in the hell this was happening. He was a grown man, an adult. He shouldn't be subject to the same consequences of his childhood, no matter how moronically he had behaved.

But try explaining that to Frank Reagan on a bad day.

He didn't know how long trickled by, but somewhere along the line he heard the door open and close with Danny's force, and the sound of a familiar engine motoring out of the driveway. Before he could determine how he felt about that, a soft padding alerted him to an incoming guest and his heart sank. Not his father's footsteps, who still hadn't returned, but his grandfather's. He was surprised the man had the self restraint in the current situation to offer a cursory knock. Murmuring his assent after a split second of indecision, Jamie drew his knees up to his chest with a sigh as the man entered.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Henry cast a long look over his youngest grandchild. Jamie was perhaps the most difficult for the Reagan patriarch to understand. Erin and Danny, they were fiery, just like him and just like Frank. But Jamie…even as a small boy had always been a very thoughtful and measured child, turned teen, turned adult. He was cautious with his words, and tended to think about the consequences of both his vocals and his actions. It was why they rarely had any trouble with him.

But it was also why his infrequent bouts of trouble tended to be all the more spectacular.

"I'm surprised by you, Jamie."

Before the cause of his surprise, pale though he was, could stomach an answer…Henry continued. "We know, ok? Turns out that partner of yours knows you a lot better than you think. But your father will get to all that, but my question is why, Jamie? Why on earth would you do something so incredibly stupid? You really that hard up for cash that you needed to clear your student debt like that? Have you lost your damned mind?"

The man was getting worked up, and it caused Jamie pain to see it.

"We didn't raise you to be a knucklehead. Granted, you didn't know who you were getting into bed with, but you should have. More to the point, you had no business getting into bed with any loan shark. If you were that desperate, you had a number of options. Us, Jamie, us…me, your father, anyone. But you were too proud, weren't you? I still can't get my head around that level of stupidity, and from you!" He sighed in frustration, and stared directly into the kid's eyes. "You're lucky I'm old, Jamison Reagan, because if I wasn't…"

He didn't need to finish his thought.

It was painfully obvious what his process was.

"Pretty sure dad's gonna be more than willing to fill that void, Pops."

The misery and guilt laden mumbling, so far removed from the usual self assured and lilting tone stopped Henry's vehement retort of "and so he should be," dead in its tracks. Whilst he may have always encountered more difficulty in understanding his youngest grandchild, he couldn't deny his softest of spots lay in Jamie Sighing; he found his hand moving towards the lad's knee with a gentle squeeze that drew the most tentative of eye contact.

Puppy eye contact.

"He's gonna kill me, Pops. In cold blood."

Henry considered this for a moment. It was true, his son was no doubt murderously furious. But he knew the protracted time the commissioner was taking in returning home, was in an effort to control himself. Otherwise, he very possibly could kill the kid. "Look, Jamie…what you did was so far out of line I can't even tell you. The danger you put yourself in, and the worry you caused, that has to be accounted for and you know it. But…your father is a good man, and he knows how to see all the sides to any situation. Trust him to do that and you just count yourself lucky that-"

"That he's breathing right now?"

Leaning in the open doorway, arms folded across his chest stood the very subject matter of grandfather and grandson's discussion. Both Reagan's stared at Frank as he raised a brow in disgruntlement. "What, you think I can't avoid the squeaky step in my own house?" Entering the room, he noted how his son paled and he noted the warning look his own father sent him. Both glances caused him equal amounts of misery, not that it showed on his face. Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he tossed it lightly over Jamie's old desk chair, and turned slowly to face Henry. His voice was low, level and controlled but it nonetheless vibrated with his controlled fury.

"I'm gonna need some time alone with my son, Pops."

Deliberating for a moment, the eldest Reagan appraised his son carefully. He could tell he was seething with rage, still reeling from fright and still faint with relief. But, in a way that only Frank could, he was in control of his competing emotions. Looking quickly between father and son, the retired commissioner nodded, and rose slowly, but not before squeezing a silent Jamie's knee gently. He was livid with the boy himself, but still…he didn't relish the idea of what was about to happen to him. Nor did he envy his son his duty, or fail to appreciate the fact that his time in dealing with such matters was at a blissful end.

There were some perks to being a self styled dinosaur.

Passing by his only child, he murmured so only he could hear. "He's a good kid Francis. Don't forget that one mistake, no matter how huge, doesn't change that. And that's an order." Frank's moustache bristled with indignation for a moment at the idea of being ordered to do any such thing, but he caught the genuine care for Jamie in his father's eyes and nodded stiffly. With one look at the pair of them, Henry nodded and left the room, closing the door securely behind him. Within a moment, music and television jingles made their way up the stairs, causing Jamie in particular to feel a stab of gratitude.

But that rapidly fell away as his father turned to face him.

He straightened up instinctively, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting on its edge, with his arms tucked across his chest. He opened his mouth tentatively, before snapping it shut. It was best to allow his father to lead the conversation in such situations, according to Danny anyhow. A stony silence reverberated around the room, as Frank surveyed the top of his son's fair head, drooped in guilt.

"I don't think I've ever been this disappointed in you. I think this is the most disappointed I've ever been in any of my children, as a matter of fact."

The words were quiet, and the tone was measured but they may as well have been bellowed through a megaphone such was Jamie's flinch. Looking up slowly, his eyes were pooling with regret. He still couldn't come to terms with his own stupidity and recklessness, he could hardly expect any different from his father. "I know," he answered quietly, not insulting either of them by countering, "I know how badly I've messed up." He did his best to engage in some kind of eye contact, but in seeing the fire in Frank's eyes, he quickly dropped his gaze back down to the floor.

"Do you indeed?" the elder Reagan challenged quietly, "Do you really know what you've done? The danger you placed yourself in? Your job in? The danger of forcing this family to go through the pain of Joe all over again? The impossible situation and danger you placed your partner in? The potential of setting back mob policing back a solid decade? You're telling me you realise all that, Jamie? Because, if you do…then hell, I guess my work here is done."

The younger Reagan paled an impossible shade of the starkest white.

"I didn't…I didn't think," he spluttered, with an uncharacteristic impediment to his speech. "I didn't-"

"Didn't what?" Frank interjected coolly, "Didn't think you had to play by the same rules as everyone else? You think you're the only twenty something in the entire world with heavy student debt and an entry level salary? You didn't think you ought to do a little more research into the most stupid decision you've ever made? You didn't think to just come clean when I asked you what was wrong, or when Danny, your Pop's, Erin…even the kids asked you? Well, I gotta say…that's just a tad too much _non thinking_ for my liking."

Jamie's stomach plummeted at the downright scathing line of questioning. It wasn't characteristic.

Sarcasm meant his father was not only livid, but…he was hurt. Not that he'd ever admit it.

"I just got in so deep so fast dad," he murmured desperately, "I was barely making rent on my place. I'm stuck with a law degree that I'm never going to use, costing me thousands, with no meaningful way to pay it back and then…I guess I just made a stupid call. I regretted it the minute I used that money to pay off the Harvard loan, dad, I swear I did. But it was done then. The terms were uhm…a lot more flexible and I've been….uhm…"

"Moonlighting as a bouncer in a series of shady clubs around town for the last two or so months and brazenly lying through your teeth about it?"

Jamie dropped his head yet again as shame drenched him. Clearly his father had all the pertinent facts.

"Yes sir…"

Frank breathed in deeply. He was so crippled under the weight of the day's events he didn't even have the consciousness to correct Jamie's use of "sir" in the house. Images of the young and very tortured Eddie Janko swam in his mind. He would never have been able to save his son if it hadn't been for her. He wasn't about to tell Jamie about the mini surveillance op she had mounted upon him. He knew that his youngest knew exactly how he knew what he did, and it would be up to himself and his partner to work the rest out for themselves.

"How I know what I know is the result of your partner maintaining more intelligence in her little finger than you deigned to maintain in your entire skull. The ins and outs of that information's source is to be sorted out between the two of you, but be warned…if I find you've treated her with anything other than gratitude for her central role in saving your neck, I will be far from happy. Are we clear?"

Jamie nodded immediately, feeling moderately ill. He had guessed that Eddie had seen through his barely there mask and had either followed him herself or had someone else do it. He closed his eyes at the wrestling he knew she would have gone through before going to his father, and her boss of all bosses. Shame spread through him once more. Tailing the mob he had embroiled himself within was one hell of a dangerous operation, and it would never have been necessary but for him. His already stark pallor whitened even further as he thought of it, noted by Frank's steely eye.

"Quite the mess isn't it?"

Looking up tentatively once more, Jamie nodded with such a degree of regret that Frank's rage was momentarily pierced. His youngest rarely screwed up, but when he did…he seemed to almost try and overachieve about it. Sighing, he sat himself down beside his son and scrubbed a hand over his face. "In a way…I understand," he murmured eventually, "I know what it is to be under financial pressure, and I know your student loans are…were, no joke. What I don't understand Jamie, what I can't get my hand around is why you declined my offer to help and instead took the hand of a loan shark?"

Jamie bit his lip.

"I know you offered me help a million times dad, but I just…I just didn't want to-"

"Admit that you needed help? No…that never has been your strong point now has it?"

Jamie couldn't argue with that, letting out a small sigh of self deprecating frustration.

"Guess it's not a stronger point, no…."

Frank stared down at the floor and gathered his thoughts. The fact that his son was still solidly sitting beside him, inhaling and exhaling made him faint with relief. He had been possessed of the terrible pain that had dogged him in the early hours of Joe's death when Eddie had come bursting into the house what seemed like a lifetime ago. He had been convinced his boy, his youngest, was dead. Killed for a measly couple of grand. Money that between he and his father, they could have easily come up with. The pointlessness of Jamie's endeavours made the danger he'd placed himself in all the harder to swallow. Not to mention the endless headaches he was going to have at one PP trying to smoothen the whole mess out.

"You'll be lucky if we can save your job after this."

He didn't mention the fact, even in the wake of the pain that shot across Jamie's face, that he had pretty much straightened out the mess that came with the sudden arrest of a mob patriarch without proper planning or notice. Garrett was playing a blinder, as was Renzulli in battling what appeared on the surface to be an unauthorised undercover op. That was the company line, and it galled Frank to be a part of it. So, there was no need for his youngest to know the efforts going on behind the scenes. A little panic at loosing the thing he loved would do him no harm; despite the harm it caused Frank's heart as said panic grew in the kid's eyes.

"But, dad-"

"Don't you dare _but dad_ me right now," Frank interrupted fiercely, "You will take whatever discipline the force decides appropriate, and you will take it like a man. You want to get into bed with criminals, son? Then you sure as hell better believe you're going to lie in it with them. I told you the last time you went off the reservation, that you get one get out of jail free card. And you used it back then, and now there are no cards left to play. Maybe that, if nothing else, will finally teach you a lesson."

Jamie bit his lip so hard in anguish that the rusty tinge of blood instantly assailed his senses.

It took every bit of Frank's will power not to blurt out that the kid's job was safe as he quickly reached up and gently tapped his youngest's jaw. "Stop that, you'll hurt yourself." Jamie slowly unclenched the hold he had on his bottom lip, and twitched miserably in his seat. Whatever his father did to him now seemed almost immaterial. There would be no physical punishment on earth that could come close to the pain losing his job would cause. Images of handing over his shield and gun, for good, filtered through his mind and he couldn't help the low, guttural moan of misery from seeping through his bloodied lips.

And then, even Frank Reagan broke. No one could see their child in that much misery and not help if they could. "Alright, alright," he grunted, "Take that look of your face. Garret and Renzulli are handling it. Given that your actions, on the face of it, appear to be an unauthorised undercover operation, chances are you'll get a stiff rip, desk duty and one hell of a dressing down when your sergeant gets a hold of you. But…" Frank sighed, "I don't think we're talking pink slips, this time."

Jamie choked, heaved and spluttered on the surging intensity that was his own relief.

"Really?"

Looking into the wide eyes, screaming with hope and relief, Frank nodded slowly.

"Really. Not that you don't deserve the sack, and not that is not exactly what you'll get if this ever happens again. Now, I don't want to talk about the force side of things for the moment. I want _you_ to talk now. I want you to tell me just how in the hell you think we would have handled this if we hadn't found you. I want you to be honest with yourself, and try and put yourself in my position, and tell me what you think you the impact of your unnecessary, short sighed and downright moronic death would have been on your family."

His moustache flared.

"I appreciate that honesty hasn't been your flavour of the last two months, but do try."

Relief drained from Jamie's soul, as guilt poured back in. Flashbacks of Joe's death and the direct aftermath assailed him, and he paled even further. Hindsight was a beautiful thing, but it was also a very painful thing. Looking back, the youngest of the Reagan clan realised that at no step along his loan sharking journey, had he been thinking clearly. He'd lost his head in the midst of financial pressures that he had never before experienced or envisaged. But, that was no excuse, thousands and thousands of graduates struggled through the same issues without resorting to his choices.

And most of them weren't cops who sure as hell knew better.

"Dad…I never, ever meant for you or any of you to go through…Joe, again…I swear….I didn't…"

His voice trailed off and became faint with still present grief at the mention of his older brother. Looking at his youngest child, Frank softened. Jamie was definitely the most thoughtful of the family, and he must have been consumed by his own worries not to think his actions through in the manner he usually did. Despite himself and despite the still present enormity of his rage he found his arm operating almost independently of his brain as he placed it gently around Jamie's shoulders. Drawing the boy into his shoulder, he sighed into the mop of fair hair.

"I know you didn't, son, I know…"

Breathing in the familiar scent of delicate aftershave and the ever present aroma of fresh coffee, Jamie relaxed for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. Despite the issues they still faced, the fact that everything was out in the open was in and of itself a salve that he hadn't counted on. Withdrawing from the one armed hug however, he looked his father in the eye.

"Regardless of force consequences, or any other consequences, I need you to know I'm sorry."

He paused and swallowed.

"I'm sorry for what I put our family through."

Frank nodded slowly, studying his kid carefully. The truth was splashed across his face and the older man had no trouble believing him. "I believe you," he said quietly, "I know hurting any of us was never your intention, but you know better than most that actions have a vast array of consequences. And we're going to talk about them, and deal with them. Firstly, you're not getting away with paying off your student debt the way you did. I will not tolerate it. I can't stop the payment, it's long gone. You will however, make regular donations to a charity of your choosing that aids victims of gang and mob related crime. There are several in New York alone. Are we clear?"

Jamie nodded without hesitation.

"You will never set foot in those establishments that you've been bouncing at, nor accept any payment, in cash or in kind from work already done. That is regardless of whatever terms you agreed to. Is that also clear?"

Again, the younger head nodded and bobbed in agreement.

Silence brewed for a moment as Frank thought deeply. He didn't for one second think what he was about to do was easy, for either of them, but he knew he had to do it, for both of them. Running a hand through his hair, he swallowed down a sigh of reluctance. No matter how much of a hardass he came across as, he was loathe to correct his kids with anymore than a stern look and a sterner lecture. Usually, that was all it ever took with Jamie. But…not this time. Looking his son squarely in the eye, he drew in a breath.

"Do you remember that time when you were sixteen and you took my car for a joyride?"

Jamie stared for a second, thrown by the question. It was perhaps the most spectacular screw up of his adolescence, and he had angered his father and grandfather in ways he had never seen before. Wincing as he remembered the punishment he'd received for that particular jaunt, he nodded slowly and cleared his throat.

"I remember not driving or sitting for a very long time after that."

Frank suppressed a small smile. "Do you remember what I told you? The explanation I gave as to why I was so hard on you?"

Jamie's brow furrowed as he cast his mind back.

"That we only have so much luck in the world when it comes to our lives and safety," he recalled slowly, "And that you'd never stand by and watch us push ours when we didn't have to." Nodding approvingly, Frank found himself placing a hand on his son's knee. "And that hasn't changed Jamie," he replied quietly. "I still won't, and I never will. I don't care if you like it or not, or to be frank, if you agree with it or not. When you're my age and you got kids who don't know how to listen, you'll understand."

Jamie, despite himself, couldn't suppress a small snort and a smaller smile.

"C'mon dad, Danny's not _that_ bad."

Reaching up to gently clip his son around the ear, Frank stood abruptly. "Good point, seeing as Danny's not the one whose butt I'm about to roast." Leaning down, he cupped a gentle hand around Jamie's upper arm and expertly drew him to his feet. When they were at level eye contact, Frank took in the turmoil in his son's eyes and sighed. "Jamie, when I look at you…I'm always going to see my youngest. My five year old with the mouth and mind of a twenty year old. But I also need to respect that fact that you're not that kid anymore."

He pointed to the door and Jamie's gaze slowly followed his father's arm.

"I'm not going to force you, you know that. You're free to walk out that door, and there'll be no problem between you and I. I won't hold it against you. You're free to make your own decision on this. There's no decision to be made on the consequences from the force, you have to accept those. But, as far as consequences from your old man go…well, you're old enough now turn your back on those." He placed a hand on each of his son's shoulders and locked eye contact with him. "I mean it, Jamie…it's your choice. But once you make that choice, it's done. There's no going back on it."

He removed his hold from his son's shoulders.

"So what's it to be?"

Jamie stared. And stared some more, before flickering his gaze between the wide berth of his father in front of him and the door that seemed to shimmer with freedom behind him. He chewed his lip. Whilst he had always known that he didn't _have_ to accept punishment from his father as an adult, and always known it was his own choice, it had never been spelled out verbally for him before. Before he could think any further on it, his eyes found the baseball cap Joe had given him when he was ten. Sitting pride of place on the top shelf of the bookcase by the door. One of the few things he had to remember him by. He swallowed. He could have been reduced to a box full of mementos for his family to keep, because of a string of bad decisions and lies.

He squared his shoulders and looked up at his silently watching father.

"I deserve whatever I get, both from the force…and from you, dad."

He blinked and confirmed his decision.

"I'm not walking out that door."

Frank didn't react for a moment, merely opting to stare at his youngest. His chest was expanding painfully, and far from a cardiac incident he realised it was with pride. No matter how much his brood frustrated and downright angered him at times, the sense of right and wrong that was inherent in all of them made up for all of it. For every single bit of it. Acting instinctively, he pulled the kid into a gruff hug and sighed into his tussled up hair. "How you can make me want to murder you and proud as hell of you at the same time, I'll never know…"

When they broke apart, Jamie had a just a glimmer of his cheeky smile on his face as he shrugged.

"I like to keep things interesting."

Frank snorted. Interesting was the understatement of the decade if ever he heard it. Moving past Jamie, he grabbed the pillow from the top of the bed and placed them in the centre. Looking back, he couldn't help the sigh at the pained expression on his kid's face. The seriousness of the situation had grabbed them once more, and they both knew it. "Lose the jeans, and lie face down on the bed son," the elder man commanded quietly, "This…is going to hurt, but the usual rules apply. You do not move out of place, or I could end up hurting you."

The incredulous look that crossed Jamie's face before he could help it answer him.

"You know what I mean," Frank muttered, "Go on now. Get those jeans down and let's get this taken care of and forgotten about." Paling somewhat, Jamie managed to nod his head jerkily and reach down to do as he was bidden. It had been years since he'd been on the receiving end of a strapping from his father's belt, and he felt himself puke internally at the thoughts of it. And yet, he'd known that this was never going to be resolved with a trip over Frank's knee. Knowing that the thoughts of it were a lot worse than the actual reality of it, he bit the bullet.

Within a second he had unbuckled his jeans and pushed them down to his knees. Memories of years gone by plagued him as he easily draped his hips over the pillows. Burying his head in his arms as the vulnerability hit him; he cursed himself for the millionth time. Having his boxer clad butt presented higher in the air than the rest of him put every one of his nerves on his edge. Even with his head thrown into his arms, he could hear the nauseating sound of thick leather swooshing through loops as his dad removed his belt. The sounds of the buckle being securely fastened in his father's hand and the coming together of the leather as it was folded over seemed oddly magnified.

Suddenly the gratitude Jamie felt for all the noise downstairs was back again.

Holding the belt in his hand, Frank faltered. It had been a long time since he'd had cause to take this stern of a line with his youngest. Reluctance tempered by purpose surged within him as he moved forwards and placed a hand on the small of Jamie's t-shirt clad back. "If I never have to do this to you again, that would be the one of the best gifts you could ever give me Jamie. Do you understand me?"

He didn't expect a verbal answer, nor did he get one. The nodding was sufficient.

"Good. Now, I know it's hard son…but try and stay still."

Before Jamie could even steel himself to try, the first lick of the belt fell. Freezing in position, he was bewildered by the wildfire like crack that echoed around the room. A moment later, his brain caught up with reality as the streak of fire erupted in the centre of his butt. A small, irrepressible grunt of pain and surprise escaped him as the sting of thick leather spread like an earthquake from the epicentre of its stroke. He had definitely forgotten what it was to be on the receiving end of his father's blet, and he felt a sudden stab of sympathy for his brother who was more than familiar.

The hold on the small of his back increased as the second swat fell, and this time Jamie's brain had no problem in keeping pace with reality. Though this time he did not utter a sound, the biting pain was breathtaking. His father didn't use his old school, Irish-Catholic measures often…but when he did, the offender sure as hell knew about it. Gritting his teeth as the leather struck down a third time, Jamie knew that this was one of the rare occasions where his desire for stoicism wasn't going to last long.

Not long at all.

Bringing his arm up for a fourth time, Frank was shrouded in sadness. The sounds of the belt biting down on his son's butt was horrifying to him, but he had to keep it together. It would be a hell of a lot more horrifying to bury the kid. Having had more than enough experience from his own father, which was then resultantly passed to his own children, Frank was no amateur at strapping an errant behind back into shape. He knew his youngest was hurting, and with the anger he had felt for the kid fast fading, he found it harder and harder to lay down stroke after stroke.

The room was silent, save for the sounds of belt to butt and the tactful noise from downstairs. But Frank knew Jamie's attempts at silent acceptance would only last for a moment or so more. He was being hard on him, because he needed to be. And there was no shame in showing that it hurt, he had tried to drill that into his boys…but boys will be boys. As he laid down another three rapid fire licks, and at the sounds of Jamie's second hiss, he knew he had to progress things.

Laying the belt down beside his son for just a moment, he quickly leaned over and tugged the lad's boxers down to meet his jeans. Picking back up the thick leather, and reapplying his both restraining and comforting hold on Jamie's back, he looked down in misery. His youngest's butt was already a burning shade of pink, just chomping to become a dull shade of red. Biting his lip, he increased his hold on the small of his boy's back, and raised his arm high once more.

The sound of the make-do strap on bare skin was even worse, and Frank flinched right alongside his son. But he didn't join him in the strangled yelp he couldn't swallow down as the belt snapped expertly down on his already well warmed rump. He instinctively jerked backwards a little, but found his father's hand preventing him, gently pushing him back down into position. Before he could think about it, the next lick landed, and the next, and then the one after that. Before he knew it, Jamie was well and truly in the middle of getting one of the worst lickings of his life. Tears sprang up in his eyes, and he didn't even try to control them as he hollered out loud at one particularly searing swat across his sit spots.

He immediately knew sitting was off the cards for a couple of days.

He squirmed involuntarily against the next couple of stinging licks, but found he was held depressingly still by the wide breadth of his father's hand. The next swat broke the banks, and he found he didn't care. The hot, stinging tears that had shimmered in his eyes cascaded down his cheeks as he began to cry quietly into his arms. The swats didn't end because he gave in, nor did he expect them to. They continued to fall, with a speed and force that would reduce even the firmest of men to tears.

Within the space of the next three unyielding licks, the crying had turned the crescendo into sobbing.

Hearing the sounds of his youngest's misery, Frank felt moderately sick with misery. It always amazed him how steadfast and determined he was before it actually came to dealing with one his brood. Phrases like "Wait till I get my hands on them," and "They can kiss goodbye to ever looking at a chair in the same way again," came easy to him, but the reality…was much different. Always had been. Biting back his own feelings as Jamie's sobbing began the predictable process of petering out into the even more painful bout of weeping, he tightened his hold on the kid's back.

They were nearly done.

"Hold on son," he murmured, "Nearly finished now, you're doing great, just keep holding still for me."

With that, he committed to fulfilling the worst and final part of the punishment. Focusing the belts bite across the tender region where Jamie's butt and thighs met, he set about making the reddened area even more crimson. The kid didn't jerk or move he merely lay limp and continued to weep quietly into his arms. With one last push, Frank snapped the thick leather down for the last time and promptly threw the belt as far away from them both as possible. As it landed with a thud somewhere behind him, he immediately sat down beside his son's head and placed a gentle hand upon it.

He didn't say anything, it wasn't time. Instead he merely tousled the kid's hair softly, and focussed on listening to his breathing. The sounds of the soft weeping were as heartbreaking as he remembered and he swallowed down the bile it drew up in his throat. Eventually, after a few moments, he cleared his throat. Jamie's crying was tapering off now, being replaced with heavy and watery breathing. "I know that was rough," he murmured, "I know I was hard on you, but I need you to know that it's over now. We will never talk about this situation again, it's over and you're forgiven son. It's forgiven and it's forgotten. Clean slate."

He paused to draw in some additional air of his own.

"I'm proud of you. You took that like a man. Now, I'm going to get you some sweats to change into. Ok?" The fair head under his hand nodded and he rose. Taking his time, deliberately, and keeping his back to a slowly rising Jamie, he rooted through the odd selection of clothing that remained in the room. Fishing out a pair of Harvard track ends, he was about to close the drawer before thinking suddenly that any reminder of the boy's college days would be tactless, considering. Rooting once more, he found a plain pair of ends and waited for the little gasp that let him know the clothing was righted.

Turning when he heard it, Frank extended the trousers to his red eyed, red faced and generally miserable looking son with a pang. Muttering a muted thanks, Jamie quickly kicked off his jeans the rest of the way and pulled the soft material up over his enflamed butt. Swiping a hand across his red rimmed eyes, he took a deep breath and spoke before Frank could open his mouth. His voice was thick with the remnants of his tears, but it was steady.

"Aren't you _ever_ going to get old, frail and forgetful with decrepit arms?"

The elder man stared for a moment, his head to the side with surprise. Snorting a moment later, he shook his head at his son's way of letting him know he was ok. "Not in this lifetime," he chuckled quietly. Crossing the distance between them, he raised a thick eyebrow in his youngest's direction. "How are we doing then?" he asked quietly, "I know I was hard on you."

Jamie pondered for a moment, before smiling a slight and rueful smile.

"Physically? I feel like hell, and don't even tell me you're as hard on Danny as you are on me. I stopped buying that years ago. But…mentally?" he smiled a slightly wider smile, "Better. I feel better." Frank smiled and let the wildly inaccurate comment about the varying degrees of toughness he used with both his boy's. It had been an argument that ignited between them years ago, and continued to the present day.

"So… what now?" Jamie asked suddenly, shuffling slightly.

"Now?" Frank repeated quietly, "Now you get your butt over here and give your old man a hug. I have _needs_ you know, I'm really very sensitive." Rolling his eyes at his father's gentle teasing, but feeling the relief of seeing the twinkle in his eyes as opposed to the leaden disappointment, Jamie moved. A moment later he felt Frank's arms wrap around his back as he was pulled into a tight hug. Feeling more relaxed than he had in months, he allowed himself to be coddled for a moment longer than he usually would before drawing back.

"You're forgetting your belt," he muttered, having heard his father throw it out of his hand. Shrugging, Frank put a hand on Jamie's shoulders and steered him towards the bedroom door. "It can stay there," he grunted, not having any desire to look at the damned thing. Sensing his father's reasons, Jamie felt a sudden rush of affection for the man and nodded quietly. "What's downstairs?" he asked instead, as he was propelled even further towards the door. Frank glanced down at him, "your grandfather," he answered mildly, as if it were obvious.

Jamie stopped short in the middle of the floor.

"I apologised to him already, honestly…before you came in."

Frank chuckled at the indignation tinged with horror on his youngest's face.

"I know…but I was under strict instructions not to kill you. So you're exhibit A, well…your pulse is and if he doesn't see you and it in the next five minutes he's going to come up here and give me hell." He began steering Jamie towards the door once more. "So c'mon son, move it. I can do without the earache, let me tell you."

Jamie stopped short once again, a sudden and devilish grin spreading across his face. Frank instantly sensed something was a-brewing and shot his son a warning glare. Suddenly darting towards the door, the youngest Regan wrenched in open and hollered down the stairs in a tone that would indicate he was, at the very least, about to be beheaded by a crazed axe murderer.

"Pops! Help me….he's…"

Growling deep in throat, Frank clamped an immediate but careful hand son's mouth who spluttered with laughter behind it. "You're dead," he hissed in horror as silence suddenly ensued downstairs, the television suddenly dying a death. "Jamison Reagan, you listening? You are stone cold _dead,_ you little…"Over the sounds of Jamie's raucous laughing, another voice joined the mix. A bellowing voice, a voice that could still make Frank's blood run cold, a voice that was coming closer and closer.

"Francis Xavier Reagan!"

…..

A/N: Yes, I know I suck. I thought I'd get this up within a week like I said, but life just rudely gets in the way at times! Anyhow, this last chapter was maybe my favourite to write and is a little longer than normal as a result. This is the end of this story, and as my first BB story, I'd just like to thank the BB fandom for being so welcoming! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this and I hope you've enjoyed reading. Thanks for all the follow/favourites and reviews along the way. They mean a lot!

-Inks

….


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